


Stars Under the Sun

by zeski



Category: One Direction (Band), The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Barebacking, Bigotry & Prejudice, Elves, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, Knight Liam, Legend of Zelda References, M/M, Magical Zayn Malik, Minor Original Character(s), Pining, Prince Zayn Malik, Prophecy, Swordfighting, Swords & Sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 101,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26435257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeski/pseuds/zeski
Summary: Born hours apart, united by tragedy, and separated by political affairs. This is life for Zayn, Prince of Hyrule, and his best mate, Liam. Things finally seem to improve when they reunite, but now as adults, both carry responsibilities distinct from their childhood days. Faced with the challenges that years of separation and duties put on them, they now must relearn how to conduct their new relationship.But as a prophesied, ancient threat looms over the continent, will they be allowed such luxury? It takes bravery to make a legend.
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 15
Kudos: 24
Collections: Ziam Fantasy Fest





	1. Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Legend of Zelda AU, basically. I've based it mainly on [Breath of the Wild](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Legend_of_Zelda:_Breath_of_the_Wild) and [Minish Cap](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Legend_of_Zelda:_The_Minish_Cap), but there's really lore from a bunch of other games, like [Twilight Princess](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Legend_of_Zelda:_Twilight_Princess), [Ocarina of Time](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Legend_of_Zelda:_Ocarina_of_Time), and [Majora's Mask](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Legend_of_Zelda:_Majora%27s_Mask). It's not really imperative to be familiar with the series to enjoy it, though if you do know any of those titles you'll see many references. What you need to know is that the original series is about a brave knight and a magic princess (both elves) fighting evil.
> 
> References to creatures and eventual translations will be hyperlinked for your comfort. Just click the [linked word]() to go to the notes, and then click it again on the notes to go back to where you stopped. I find more practical since html has this option. It also let me put shortcuts for those who prefer to avoid the steamy bits.
> 
> Oh, this story is rated E also for violence. As in broken ribs/arms, stabbing, cuts, and quite a bit of bleeding. But I suppose there's a lot worse on a single episode of popular series airing across the globe. The four parts/chapters that I had initially were 25K on average, so it's bound to get bloody at some point. 
> 
> Finally, I'd like to thank the mods behind [ziamfantasyfest](https://ziamfantasyfest.tumblr.com/) for their support and patience. (Things got out of my control along the way! Never planned to make it 100K, but here we are, I suppose? I don't even know.) 
> 
> Massive thanks to my MVP [recklessserenadeziam](https://recklessserenadeziam.tumblr.com/) for putting up with my insanity, for the support, the hype, historical insight, and for the Urdu bits used here! This one wouldn't be possible without, my friend!
> 
> Cheers!

**I**

Another Hylian born, another day of celebration for the kingdom. When Zayn, the next prince, comes into this world, it’s no different. The announcement comes from King himself, enhanced by his emotions and a voice enhancement spell. His tears and joy are also his people’s, and all rejoice the arrival of the next generation tasked to keep Hyrule prosperous and peaceful.

All around the kingdom, Hylians celebrate the newest addition to theirs. A tiny bundle that’s even smaller in King Yaser’s strong arms, encased in a soundproof bubble. Pointed ears are yet to unfurl in their entire length. The lush raven hair is already bountiful, though— the mark of a true Hylian, along with the whiskey irises that remain hidden puffy cheeks.

On this exact joyous day, tragedy also hits the kingdom for the first time in 37 years. A female Hylian stumbles into Kakariko Village, weakened and bloodied. Her arm, carefully wrapped around her bumpy belly, leaves a cerulean trail in her wake. The same blue that also taints half of her face and clothes.

“I must see… Your Majesty...” she pleads, stumbling forwards.

The gate guards swarm to her. Not to aid, but to stop her advance. A bloodied peasant shouldn’t have access to the king. However, their captain sends word to the castle, and the order issued is clear: escort the wounded woman to the castle’s infirmary.

King Yaser summons High Priestess Aifa, and both head to the lower chambers, followed by his two guards. A team of healers already treat the wounded woman, cleaning her with various spells.

The king hadn’t before, but he now recognises the woman as one of Hyrule’s scholars. Thought to be on research on Sheikah technology with a team of five, she’s back and in pitiful shape.

“My King... save my child...” she pleads.

Most of her blood is on her clothes instead of in her body. The strange Mana in her wounds counters any healing spells cast on her. Chances are, she won’t resist delivery. The healers know. The High Priestess knows. The king knows. And, of course, the wounded scholar herself does, too.

Tragedy is unavoidable.

“On Hyrule, I shall protect and do my best in your instead,” he vows, placing a hand on hers.

The scholar smiles faintly, noticing a baby already on the king’s arms. “Thank you for this selfish wish... Your Majesty.”

Her waning strength won’t allow her to push a new life outside, and so she suggests an emergency procedure. The instructions are written in a scroll in her bag. A set of instructions that—albeit clear—describe a procedure alien to all present. Still, the king’s servants do all in their power, and eventually a new life comes forth.

The second baby draws attention for its appearance. Like the small prince, it has pointed ears still furled and squishy cheeks. All similarities end here, as the mostly bald head and paler skin tone differ from every other Hylian.

“It’s a boy!” High Priestess Aifa announces, once done with a cleaning spell. She also conjures a mantle to wrap the baby in a small bundle, just like she’s done to the prince. “What should be his name?”

“Liam. He’s Liam,” the scholar says. She strains her neck, and kisses her baby’s head for the first time. “I’m sorry... for not watching you... grow up.”

It’s the king’s turn to show her his baby. Bowing isn’t a possibility, thus she meekly nods in acknowledgement. Her son has been born under the same star as the prince, and in the presence of both the current and future king of Hyrule.

If Hylia has granted her a wish to compensate her little boy for taking his parents, this must be it.

As if sensing his mother’s passing, baby Liam wails. King Yaser picks and slips him into the prince’s soundproof case. Baby Liam stops crying almost as readily, and his breathing calms down. Same goes for the little prince Zayn, who hasn’t as much as stirred at having his space shared.

“My son has accepted him, and so should all of you,” King Yaser states, his gaze sweeping over every face in the room. “Be his friend, Zayn, for fate has cruelly brought you two together. We can’t allow him to suffer any more than he already has.”

True to his word, the king allows Liam to live in the castle as his protégé. News of the king welcoming a peasant into the Royal Family soon spread over Hyrule. Some think nothing of it, attributing it to the generous heart of their king. Others think fatherhood has muddled their king’s judgement, and that a promise in a deathbed _shouldn't_ be binding.

Regardless of the public opinion, the discoveries Liam's mum’s research brings are undeniable. They introduce some magicless practices—like the surgery to bring Liam into this world—that facilitate life in Hyrule. As a result, Liam grows up among royalty. Not quite a prince, not quite a peasant.

Another factor is decisive on Liam’s semi-royal upbringing: Zayn. The two boys are never apart. Everything they do, they do it together. Their sleep schedules are one and the same. Whenever one gets hungry, the other also does. Nappy soiling is also synchronised, much to their childminder’s chagrin.

But if all the usual baby troubles come double, there’s also relief in how the boys influence each other. Liam is more likely to have a fit of laughter and infect Zayn with his giggling. Likewise, Zayn’s more likely to placate Liam’s meltdowns, since those happen more often than Zayn’s.

King’s Yaser initial plans are to turn Liam into Zayn’s adviser and right arm. Those are short-lived, however, as Liam shows complete ineptitude for magic by his first birthday. High Priestess Aifa links it to Liam’s uncommon complexion: brown hair and pale skin.

Still, this is the babies’ lives up to their second year. By then, critics of the king doubling as a foster dad are far and wide. Rumours of an illegitimate son even make some question his authority. A grave crime, but that carries no more weight than gossip without evidence.

The matter grows critical when Liam—assumed blind—finally opens his eyes. Not for his late development, but for scarlet irises that differ from the characteristic cognac ones of a Hylian.

Red eyes of a Sheikah.

Servants in the castle begin to fear Liam. His childminder, although bound to her duties, isn’t an exception. King Yaser has no option than tracking Liam’s blood family. With a heavy heart, he gives up Liam’s custody to Liam’s granddad, Kakariko Village’s bowyer, Sayed.

As expected, separation hits both toddlers hard. Inseparable from birth, they’re now forced to live apart. This ‘solution’ backfires, and only results in nights of wailing and angry fits. It’s in one of those tantrums that Zayn first manifests the extent of his magic.

One night, every glass in the kingdom _bursts_.

Again, seeking compromise, King Yaser arranges a secret passageway between the castle and Sayed’s hut. Built with his own magic. This way, Liam can visit Zayn whenever, even when they’re older. Which Liam eventually comes to do, though not as often as Zayn does. In fact, that’s something Zayn becomes notorious for: his escapades. If he’s not enduring Ifra’s magic training, he’s at Sayed’s hut, watching Liam learn the ropes of a bowyer.

It pleases King Yaser to watch them grow closer despite separation, if only secretly. He assumes not many share the same opinion, and that includes his queen. Tangled in formalities and conventions (that don’t concern kids), he’s forced to scold them now and then.

Life goes on like this, till the boys’ fourteenth birthday.

“You're leaving? Wha’ you mean ‘leaving’?

Liam waits till Zayn sits cross-legged on his back, then resumes his push-ups with the newly added weight. He presses his palm to the floor, switching his support to just his thumb.

“King’s orders,” he replies, resuming his exercise. “I wanna go, too.”

“But... I'll be alone,” Zayn says after a moment of silence, tone softer than it already is. “I won't have anyone to play with me.”

Liam giggles. It's easy to pick on a pout. Is hard—impossible —not to when he's lived with his entire life.

“Do you _even_ have time to play, Zed?”

To Liam’s surprise, fingers tickle his neck, almost taking him down. He shrinks his neck into his shoulders, tries to avoid them, but they're relentless. It doesn’t take long till he collapses, cheek flat against the stone floor.

“That's for being cheeky. Like you don't visit me, too!” Zayn levitates a nearby cloth to dry Liam’s forehead with soft patting. “It's just... weird without you. Like if you suddenly lose your arm, or summat.”

Levitating himself onto Liam’s bed, Zayn falls spread-eagled. Reproachful magic usage around Ifra, but not when he's with Liam. With Liam, he can forget about rules and formalities and be a normal elf.

“I still don't have any magic.” Liam pushes himself up into kneeling position, his fists balled on his thighs. “It’ll be good to me! I promise I'll come back stronger!”

It doesn’t convince Zayn more than their entire conversation. Their birthday is coming, too. They'll finally stop being kids, and what does it do? Tears them apart. Sure, he understands Liam deserves a chance to develop his ridiculous strength, but he'd prefer it’s somewhere near him.

“Wha’ am I doing without you?”

Liam grins. “Sticking to your training, I hope.”

With a flick of his forefinger, Zayn flings the sweat rag in Liam’s face, who pretends to be shot. It doesn't take long before they’re both laughing, clutching their sides. Liam is the first one to stop, unlike it's been their whole lives, and he kneels in front of Zayn, holding one of his hands.

“I promise on my honour to come back to you, Your Highness,” he vows, his lips placing a soft kiss to the back of Zayn’s hand. “Like these eyes of mine are red, I promise to be back.”

“And I'll be waiting for you my entire life,” Zayn replies. Without a warning, he flicks Liam’s forehead. “Stop with tha’, you doughnut. It's ‘Zayn’. _Your_ Zayn.”

They grin at each other, then hug tight. Soon, this kind of gesture will cease between them, so they take every opportunity they have.

To Zayn, Liam’s hugs always tickle his magic. He can't put it in exact words— only that it's warm in his chest, and he can't stop smiling. Like a day of sunshine within him. To Liam, Zayn’s hugs are like the night sea— is like he'll be swallowed, and fears it a little, but he also can't help diving into it, letting the lull envelop him.

“I know! I wan’ a goodbye present!” Zayn exclaims, holding Liam at arms’ length. “I wan’ something made by you.”

Liam cocks an eyebrow. Granddad Sayed has taught him other crafts besides bows, arrows and quivers, yes. Yet, it's hardly impressive, or worthy of a prince. The royal family can easily acquire better crafts from Chafik’s jewellery shop.

“Are you sure _sure_?”

Zayn nods. “I wan’ something to remember you.”

“Weirdo.”

“Wha’ happened to ‘Your Majesty’?”

“I thought you didn't like that?”

Instead of replying, Zayn kisses Liam’s cheek, then saunters to the hidden passageway.

“Good. You're listening for once,” he beams. “See you tomorrow, _Leeyum_.”

All that's left to Liam is to blink at Zayn’s disappearance, fingertips pressed at his tingling cheek. Somehow, the sea inside him has grown deeper.

#

Weeks fly by, and farewell day comes sooner rather than later. After celebrating their birthdays in a private do, they return to Sayed’s hut for a sleepover. Hardly luxurious or spacious, but it's the thought that counts. King Yaser allows it, so a night crammed in a single bed is actually more fun than it sounds.

Comes morning, and they're still tangled up, holding each other's hands, forehead to forehead. There's a moment of silence that seems to stretch into centuries. It's just them, their sleepy gazes and placid breathing. Liam breaks it off first, reaching for a parcel wrapped in scarlet velvet, the same shade as his eyes.

“I asked Granddad for help a bit, and Chafik helped with polishing and the complicated stuff,” he says, watching Zayn carefully unwrap it. “It looked so bad before. Proper rubbish, really.”

No fortune can measure to Zayn’s smile the moment he sees his wand. Red like a 10 rupee, it has a small rose carved on its base, a thorny vine spiralling towards the tip.

“It looks like your eyes.” Zayn angles it against the sunlight. “I love it!”

Liam exhales. What has he been holding his breath for, any way? It's not as if Zayn would hate it. He's put hard work on making it decent, too. If his granddad and the kingdom's best crafter have vouched for it, then why? Truth is, he doesn't know why. But the ocean in him is warm and gentle when Zayn’s arms circle his neck, and that's a sign everything is okay.

“Open mine,” Zayn instructs. From his clothes on the pole of Liam’s headboard he produces a tiny urn with his family’s crest. “I had to try _thrice_ before Chafik helped me salvage it.”

Liam smirks. “I mean... I already know you're rubbish with crafting.”

“Oi!”

Giggling, Liam tries to open the urn. Nothing. He tries again, and even draws some of his strength to pry it open. Still, nothing. It's not before he notices Zayn hardly holding laughter in that he holds it up.

“I've charmed it,” Zayn beams. He taps it with his new wand twice, saying in a clear voice, “ _Leeyum_ and Zayn.”

As obeying a command, the box opens. A pair of sapphire-coloured earrings rest on a tiny pillow of maroon velvet. Each jewellery has gold lettering on the inside, as well a tiny royal crest.

Liam looks up at Zayn, who watches him with a lip caught between his lips.

“So... wha’ you think?” he asks, flinching as he does so. “Too simple? Too gaudy? Not your style?”

“Hylia’s prayer.” Liam runs the tip of his pinky over the inscribing. “It's a charm for protection.”

Zayn’s brow furrows. “Yeah? I sorta made them, remember?”

“Put them on me.”

“...You’re sure?”

Better than replying, Liam tucks his curls behind his ears, exposing his earlobes. Piercing them shouldn't be a problem for Zayn, he knows. The smaller the spell, the better Zayn's control. He can't say he's thought about piercing his ears before, but he doesn't dislike it, either. The fact that it’s Zayn to do it only makes him more inclined to do it.

“Don't blame me if I chop your ear off!”

No chopping happens, however. Liam gains unbelievably light earrings on each of his pointy ears. All very clean and painless. It's his turn to hug Zayn’s neck and kiss his cheek.

Zayn's hands don't join in right away, but want in into their hug, hooking around Liam’s waist.

Sunshine grows more intense, and the ocean grows deeper. For as long as it lasts, and till Granddad Sayed walks in to wake Liam up for his come-of-age ceremony.

“Liam, son, don't be late.” He then turns to Zayn, who has cheeks as rosy as Liam’s. “Your Majesty, I suggest you also return to the castle.”

With a flick of his new wand, Zayn replaces his pyjamas with the clothes on Liam's headboard. He gathers the velvet and ribbon from his present, and rolls off bed.

“See you in a bit,” he whispers to Liam, covertly pecking Liam's cheek as he speaks. He then turns to Granddad Sayed with a shy smile. “Thank you for having me, Sir.”

Granddad Sayed nothing says, shakes his head at Liam and reaches for the doorknob. Then, he leaves.

Liam rushes out of his pyjamas and once he's eaten and washed up, he's ready to meet the king for his first step towards adulthood.

#

Familiar faces await Liam by King Yaser’s side. Queen Tashifa, Ifra, Chafik, Granddad Sayed, Prime Minister Kinza, Head Priestess Aifa, General Mubariz are all present. Among them he notices Zayn, dressed in royal regalia, fulfilling a prince’s duties. Liam has never done too well with formalities himself, but here he tries his best to remember his granddad’s advice. He kneels before the throne, and bows his head to his king.

“I have arrived, Your Highness,” he announces.

“Very well.” The king claps twice, and the spears of Mubariz and Granddad Sayed cross over Liam's head. “Let the ceremony begin!”

There's little for Liam to do besides answering yes to the King's eventual questions. That's the whole point of making his vows of becoming an honoured man, abiding by Hyrule’s rules.

Head Priestess Aifa prays for Hylia to bestow her blessings on him. Granddad’s and Chafik’s words concern honing his crafting, whereas Mubariz’ are for his archery. Ifra reminds him of persevering in his studies, and that's all he gets from them. Neither the Queen, nor the Prime Minister have words for him, which Liam already expected.

Finally, it's Zayn’s turn to step forwards. Granddad Sayed joins as well, in his arms a long, silver box with the royal crest.

“ _Leeyum_ , son of Hyrule,” Zayn starts, resting his ceremonial staff on Liam's right shoulder, “as your prince, I bestow over you a gift to aid you on your journey. Go, and make this kingdom proud.”

The lid lifts, and the box's contents come to light. A long bow, a quiver loaded with arrows of multicoloured fletchings, vambraces, a chest breastplate, and a golden medallion with the carvings of an eye with a teardrop.

“It's my privilege, Your Highness,” Liam replies, accepting the gift. “I shall make you proud.”

_Don't make me ‘proud’. Just come back to me, you doughnut._

Though Liam stares at Zayn’s lips, they still don't move. He's ready to dismiss it as his nerves giving him auditory hallucinations when he hears Zayn once more.

_Now we can talk when you're away._

_Just don't tell Ifra I've been studying this instead._

Liam tries to reply in the same way. He lacks power himself, but Zayn has established communication, so it should work.

_I'll be back for you. Stronger._

Zayn taps his staff to Liam's shoulders alternatively, finishing his participation.

_You're already the strongest, Leeyum._

It's again King Yaser’s turn. Like Zayn, he also taps his sceptre to Liam's shoulders. The difference is that he holds it above Liam’s head in the end.

“For the powers invested in me, I hereby declare Liam of Hyrule successful on his rite of adulthood.”

“I humbly thank you, Your Majes—”

Liam freezes up at the sudden hug. It takes him a moment to let King Yaser's embrace envelop him like a warm blanket. Gasps from the Queen and Prime Minister fill the room, though the king lets go before either can voice their protests.

“Don't befall the same fate as your mother, and return to us, my child,” the King whispers to him before stepping back.

The throne room’s doors open, and under the sound of trumpets, Liam marches out.

_I'll see you in a bit, Leeyum._

Despite the telepathic heads up, Liam still startles when extra hands help him put his armour back in his room. He doesn't want to impose, but seeing as Zayn has offered, he lets him help. Then, Zayn’s fingertips cling to his top. Needy, desperate, and followed by warm wetness. That's only Zayn’s, at first, but then also Liam’s.

“I don't want you to go,” Zayn croaks.

Liam sniffles, and it's more noisy than he's intended it to. “But I have to go, Zed.”

It’s been an hour into adulthood, and it already sucks. Is this what others have to deal with? Because the prospect of doing it for the rest of their lives barely fares well.

They pull back, and everything is tears, runny noses and red eyes. Soft and calloused hands wipes at the faces opposite to them. More tears threaten to break out, but then Zayn kisses Liam’s palm, preventing any.

“Keep me in your heart,” he says, placing the kissed hand on Liam’s chest. “And I'll remain there forever.”

Likewise, Liam lifts Zayn’s hand to his own lips. He kisses the life line softly, trying to ignore how much softer Zayn’s palm is compared to his, used to years of bowery.

“Keep me in yours, and I'll protect you.” He places Zayn’s hand back on Zayn’s chest. “I'll be strong enough to protect you. I promise.”

They hug once more before Ifra’s voice calls for Zayn from the secret passageway. It’s time Zayn returns, else she comes to scold both of them. But before leaving, Zayn kisses an unaware Liam’s cheek.

_I'll miss you too much, Leeyum._

And then, he disappears into the secret tunnel, leaving Liam with a funny tingling to his skin and an even deeper ocean in his chest.

#

Time is relentless, and soon the first week of Liam’s absence becomes a month, a year, and eventually a _decade_. The first year is the hardest, in which it’s adapting time for both boys. It’s all alien to them, to be apart, when not many hours would go by without seeing each other. Zayn’s telepathy helps with it, and every night they share conversations before bedtime. This year is also another adaptation for Liam, as he meets the tribe of his late mum’s study, the Sheikah.

The Sheikah, Liam reports, are more similar to him than the Hylians. They’re folks that, whilst aware of magic, can’t yield it themselves. This is a decisive factor for the speed with which their technology develops. For example, they use crested stones—Gossip Stones—to signalise landmarks and maps. A hit to these stones, and they’ll impart whatever knowledge recorded into them, that’s only understandable to Sheikahs or those in a traditional Sheikah mask.

On a physical level, the Sheikah’s eyes carry the same red as Liam’s, whilst their ears are pointy as any Hylian’s. Another divisor for the Sheikah is their athletic build. They’re fighters, runners, and builders. Twice their weight is but a bag of plumes to them, and their speed invisible to the regular eye. Due to their fitness, they also wield—and favour—close-range weapons, like swords and axes.

Liam soon is taken under the Sheikah leader’s care and becomes her apprentice. Impa, a young woman of silver hair, is respected and admired for her entire tribe. The few who are foolish enough to defy her, only do it once— the taste of a crushing defeat shatters any soul. But whereas her strength keeps foes at bay, Impa is also known for her compassionate nature.

According to Liam, _“she’s a fiercer Ifra, but without magic.”_

Whilst Liam is away, Zayn devotes himself to finishing his training under Ifra. Maybe _‘devote’_ isn’t the right word, as he often lacks motivation. With Liam gone, he’s no longer awarded with a freshly-picked Silent Princess on his bed every night. _“A coincidence,”_ according to Liam, even if his _“not my flowers”_ is a technicality to throw Zayn off the loop.

They’re not his flowers because they come from the castle’s garden.

And if Zayn lacks positive reinforcement, he gets lots of the opposite from Prime Minister Kinza. It’s _never_ good enough for Kinza. Zayn never reads enough, doesn’t practise enough, or has _“been corrupted by that mongrel.”_ But every day Zayn will train, and he’ll look forward to night, when he’s finally united with Liam in his mind.

They don’t talk about anything in particular, really. It’s always about their day, training, or a new discovery. It’s a particularly bountiful period for Zayn’s historian self, as anything concerning the Sheikah is a novelty to him. He often lets Liam do most of the talking, hearing all about the lost tribe’s intricate technology. Stones that emit light. Soulless golems that move on their own. It’s easy to see why Liam’s mum had chosen to stay and dedicate herself to research.

Seldom do these little updates include changes in themselves, like growth or other body changes. Away from the eyes, this is how they can picture the other’s current self. Puberty _is_ change. Not knowing what each other sounds like is enough as it is, so some visual is appreciated.

Even this is short-lived, however. Communication happens for the first two years, then it cuts off. The first night is the worst. No matter how much Zayn tries to reach Liam, he gets nothing. No reply, no sound, _nothing._ He knows Liam is still alive because... he knows it. In his heart, that is. It’s ludicrous the thought Liam would leave this world without him noticing it. Not in a thousand years.

Still, Zayn remains persistent— every night before bed, and every morning before getting up, he tries contacting Liam. Every day for three years. All he gets is constant and absolute silence. Except for a singular time that loud noise comes on. Sadly, it’s no human voice, and evokes angry wasps in a stirred nest.

Around his 19th birthday, Zayn ceases his search. Not for giving up on Liam, but for his training increases in difficulty. On top of his magic, he’s introduced to the political role of a prince in preparation for his crowning as a king. His parents’ exasperation with his meagre improvement in mystical arts doesn’t help much, either.

On one hand, Zayn sympathises with his dad. The Sheikah’s location is unknown to any Hylian. Liam’s late mum, the only one holding this knowledge, has long departed. Whilst Zayn’s telepathic link still worked, they would hear from Liam daily. Now that it doesn’t, they can only have faith in Liam’s abilities, and trust Zayn’s intuition that he’s okay.

With Zayn as his best option, of course his dad would instruct Ifra to intensify her lessons. Ironically, it leaves Zayn too exhausted to search for Liam. And even if his dad won’t admit it, Zayn knows how much he worries about Liam, too.

#

“I heard there’s a warrior in town! He’s soooo cool!”

Zayn’s pointy ears perk at the gossip of a bunch of kids by the fountain. He’s blocked out Mubariz since setting foot in Hyrule, and now wanders through Kakariko Village to clear his mind. His trip to Zora’s Domain—as well as the matters discussed there—have drained him. As if he doesn’t already have a lot on his plate, now he has to worry about his ‘future’, too.

“He’s big, but he’s not scary at all!” a little girl says, waving a blue and white flower at her boy peers. “See? He gave me this!”

Zayn dismounts Badra to approach the kids, only to be approached instead. He crouches down to their level, and gently ruffles their hair. As usual, he styles their locks in fun shapes, like stars, flowers and hearts. The little ones are the only ones who appreciate his magic, and he’d have indulged them even without ulterior motives.

“Can I see your flower, my fair lady?” he asks.

The little girl hides her giggles behind her hands, and offers him her flower.

There’s no mistake: it’s an authentic Silent Princess. Cyan petal framed in a white rim and aquamarine stems. This flower used to be so abundant around the kingdom, but now it’s rarely seen. It’s been long since the ones in Zayn’s garden died, so he hasn’t seen one in years.

“Where did you find this?” Zayn sniffs the nostalgic fragrance. He can’t admit to eavesdropping on little kids, even though a Hylian’s audition is naturally sharp. “We don’t find them any more.”

“The beautiful man had lots,” she replies, to which her mates make gagging noises. “He’s very kind!”

The boy with flower-shaped hair blows a raspberry. “He’s cool, but red eyes are scary!”

Zayn’s breath hitches on his throat. He stares at the Silent Princess in his hand. His favourite flower. The one seemingly impossible to find these days. But maybe they’re still abundant in some remote location.

One that’s not well-known to any Hylian.

“You know where the red-eyed man is now?” he asks, already standing up. The kids all point towards the castle. “I’m going now. Be good to your parents, yeah?”

An excited _“okay!”_ in unison elicits a grin from Zayn. He wishes he could stay and play with them, but there’s no time for that. If this red-eyed man is at the castle, he must find him. For the sake of his rib cage—hammered down by his heartbeat—he must solve this mystery soon.

Badra can’t cover ground fast enough. Once back at the castle, Zayn hops off his mare and heads straight to the throne room. There he finds whom he’s been searching for: knelt before his dad’s throne, there’s a man in foreign clothes, and beside him a basket to the brim with Silent Princesses.

“Son, what—”

Zayn strides to the man on the floor, grabbing his shoulder. “ _Leey_ —”

“May I help you?”

All the air Zayn has in his lungs leaves at once. He’s had alchemic recipes blow up on his face before, and even that doesn’t compare to this blow. He blinks in hopes of seeing something different, but instead, the same red eyes stare every single time.

“This is the leader of the Sheikah tribe, Impa.” King Yaser clears his throat. “I ask you to refrain from barging into our affairs.”

“I apologise for my behaviour.” Zayn bows. There’s still little oxygen in his lungs for him to speak, and his stomach wiggles like Torch Slug in a puddle of seawater. “I have just returned from a long journey and exhaustion has clouded my judgement. Apologies for my rudeness.”

On her feet, Impa towers over Zayn. Her height and build must be what had the kids mistake her for a man. Granted, her build is bulkier than any soldier in the Royal Army, or even Mubariz himself.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, just like I’ve heard,” she replies instead. A smirk pulls at the corner of her mouth, and her eyes transmit a smugness Zayn can’t place. “I also apologise for confusing you, Your Highness.”

Time to return to his chambers. Excusing himself and blocking out Ifra’s lecture, Zayn heads back to his chambers. Eating can wait. Right now, he needs a good bath and to rinse all this salt in his hair. His dad also has to hear his report on his diplomacy over Zora’s Domain, and so he should stand by.

Zayn sniffs the air by the doors to his bedroom. This sweet scent he’s smelt in the throne room is also here. It’s not on him, as he makes sure to sniff his forearms. His right hand sure has fading traces of it, but this isn’t the result of a sole Silent Princess.

“Wha’ the—”

Flowers. Flowers everywhere.

Zayn runs into a sea of Silent Princesses behind his door. On his bed, on his desk, by his alchemy kit, on his bookshelves. Twice, trice, maybe _four times_ the amount of Impa’s basket. What catches his eye, however, isn’t the sea of flowers, but rather a single Silent Princess in his vase that had been empty for years.

“With my luck, you’ll say they’re not your favourite any more.”

The unfamiliar familiarity throws Zayn off more than getting caught off guard. The voice is right behind him, yet he doesn’t remember picking a single sound in his room. It’s as if somebody has just materialised behind him, when only a few people can enter his room.

Slowly, he turns around to the owner of this voice. He turns, stops and stares. A foot or two from him, a man shrouded in darkness seizes him down. A man whose build surpasses any other in Hyrule, and that has his face hidden by a white mask of a single, embroidered eye on it.

Zayn’s wand slides out of his sleeve and into his grip.

“State your reasons, and I might forgive your indiscretion,” he says, balancing the stranger’s chin at the end of his wand. Although there’s no odd Mana flow in the room, he proceeds cautiously. “You’re trespassing in a prince’s chambers; I can’t overlook tha’.”

The man vanishes, then reappears by the door. Zayn readies a remote binding spell, watching as the eye mask is slowly peeled off.

“You still have it. Was afraid you might not remember me any more.”

Zayn’s wand drops to the floor. The hand wielding a second ago, now dangles lifeless by his side. His lips remain parted, but words don’t come out. They do try to come out, all at once. That’s how they clog his throat with this large lump. Might as well be his stomach, because he can’t tell it’s still there. All that’s left in his guts is emptiness, the most absolute void.

Coarse hair frames chin, lips, and jaw. Eyebrows, that had been thick before, are now even bushier, providing a sharper look. The eyes, whilst unchanged in form, now carry a decisiveness that replaces most of their previous innocence. They carry maturity, trustworthiness. They’re the same, and yet not.

 _“Leeyum..._ ”

Liam frowns, then smiles till crinkles pull at his eyes.

“I suppose that doesn’t suit me, huh?” He runs a hand over his buzzed off hair, his cherub curls all gone. “Didn’t think it was bad enough to make you cry, though.”

Zayn teleports above Liam, abandoning himself into two strong arms. He ignores Liam’s protests of refraining from dangerous things, and lets himself spin to the momentum of their hug.

This is real— there’s no doubt about it. This scent, that’s now stronger, and so typical of a grown man. It’s a balm to the soul, taking away years of worries and despair. This facial hair that prickles at Zayn’s cheek. The warmth to take over his chest, like a fire to thaw a frozen furnace over a long winter.

The sun, once again, shines within him.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers into Liam’s neck, inhaling as much of his new favourite scent. No garden of Silent Princesses can compare to it. “I’ve missed you so much!”

Liam’s calloused hand finds home at the nape of Zayn’s neck, and it’s everything that’s been missing and more. And maybe Zayn should worry about being this touch starved, but right now he can’t bring himself to care. This is Liam, and Liam’s arms, hands, scent, and warmth. It’s as if a piece of himself has returned to him, and only now he realises how much he’s missed it.

“I wanted to see you every day. I wanted to come back so many times,” Liam says. He, too, buries his face into Zayn’s neck, inhaling as much as he can. “Not talking to you was the worst,” he admits in a trembling voice.

Zayn pulls back, wiping at Liam’s eyes with his thumbs. He wants to stop Liam’s crying, but can he do it, when he’s unable to control his own tears? Perhaps not. And so he doesn’t, instead pecking each side of Liam’s face, then resting their foreheads together.

“It’s weird to kiss you with a beard,” he admits, through a mix of giggles and tears. “You’re a full lad, now.”

Liam’s left hand reaches for Zayn's chin, his thumb rubbing over the small patch of hair under Zayn’s bottom lip.

“Same for you. But yours is so soft.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Is this the magic you’ve been practising?”

Zayn scoffs, but does kiss Liam again, this time on the forehead. “You doughnut!”

There’s so much to talk, and years worthy of adventures, that’s for sure. But both have just arrived from long journeys. Anything else can wait till they’re freshened up and rested. With the initial surprise gone, exhaustion has returned double, and Zayn’s reminded of his goal before running into a masked Liam.

“Let’s have a bath together.”

Liam blinks. “What?”

“Get clean and take a kip, like we used to do,” he explains, using their conjoined hands to drag Liam towards his bath in the back of the bedroom. “We’re tired. We can go see everyone later.”

Liam’s hand slips out, as he gets down on one knee. He brings his right hand, balled into a fist, to his heart, and bows his head.

“I don’t think it’d be appropriate, Your Highness.”

“‘Your Highness’?! I’m your best mate!” Zayn retorts, taking his tiara off with a tap of his wand. He waits till Liam’s eyes are on him, to do the same with his top, revealing a necklace with a small ring dangling from it. “I’m your _husband_ , remember?”

Liam groans. A sign he does, in fact, remember. The circumstances have been clouded by the sands of time, but he clearly remembers their ‘wedding’. Remembers asking Chafik to teach him how to make rings. And thinking about it, it’d been Zayn’s notion that _“people stay together forever when they have a wedding!”_ that started their plan.

Of course, for six-years-old a ‘wedding’ isn’t a solid concept, so they end up exchanging rings made of Chickaloo nutshell. Customised rings that Chafik himself made for them. Not for free, naturally. They were paid for with a small jar of Sunset Fireflies, which took a week to catch.

That’s a memory hard to forget.

“We really can’t do that, Ze— _Your Highness,_ ” he insists.

Zayn teleports in front of Liam, his hands scooping Liam’s face in them. He levels their gazes, staring directly into scarlet eyes.

“I didn’t wait 10 years for you to let you get away again,” Zayn whispers. His initial scowl softens, and his right thumb caresses Liam’s right cheek, till both smile. “I’m your Zed and you’re my _Leeyum_. Don’t take it away from me when it’s just us. _Please_.”

Liam sighs. “Why can’t I say ‘no’ to you?”

“‘Cos you love me, obviously.” Zayn grins. “Why else?”

“Fair warning to you: I’ve changed,” Liam starts to shed his armour, “I hope you won’t find it weird. I’ve... _grown_.”

Zayn smirks. “Oooh... Bragging, aren’t we?”

“No!” Liam blurts out, and the tip of his ears are as red as his irises. “I wasn’t— I mean I have a lot of hair. Like, _everywhere_.”

Maybe the extension of it doesn’t become clear till Liam’s top comes off. Free of long sleeves and armour, Liam's forearms show considerable hair. On his forearms, back of his hands, his underarms, and just a little bit of fuzz, and the bottom of his spine. But it’s his torso that really has impressive hair: it spreads from his chest, covering his stomach, and down into his trousers.

Thick, dark brown hair to cover muscles that refuse to stay hidden. If Liam’s build is magnificent in his Sheikah attire, it’s unclad that it shows all of its glory. Zayn remembers him as a slightly muscular kid, but nowhere near what he sees now. There are veins on biceps the size of Zayn’s thighs, and a prominent V-shape points to Liam’s groin. A little of even thicker hair peeks from under the waistband, too.

Zayn swallows a lump in his throat.

“Like I said—” Liam finishes taking his trousers off, haphazardly shielding his modesty with just one hand, “—I’ve grown.”

Carefully, Zayn reaches out a hand. He skims Liam’s chest with his fingertips, at first, then places his palm against it. Liam’s chest hair is surprisingly silky compared to his beard. It probably hasn't seen any blades, or equally aggressive grooming, which is nice. There’s no reason to shed away such magnificent hair, Zayn reckons.

“You got hairier.” Zayn cups one of Liam's pecs in his hand, or at least tries to. “Rock solid, too!”

Liam averts his gaze, and as he stares down with a flushed face, Zayn’s words take a whole new meaning. One that mortifies both of them.

“Oh Hylia!” Zayn retreats his hand to cup himself, watching Liam do the same with his free hand. “I’m sorry!”

There’s little they can do about the awkward hand placement to hide their embarrassment. Blood shows no intention in cooperating, or flowing somewhere else. The only option is to turn away from each other, and rush to the bath. (To play it safe, Zayn makes water colder, and hopefully helps their raging problem.)

They slide in, opposite to each other. It doesn’t bother Zayn, at first, but then it’s awkward to avoid eye contact when they’re across each other.

“Not going to bite you, you know,” Zayn says. “Come sit closer.”

Liam scoots closer, till their shoulders touch. “You said the same thing last time I tickled you.”

 _The audacity._ Everybody knows one isn’t responsible for their fight response to tickling. That’s when our most primal instincts kick in, and we do anything to escape torture. Zayn explicitly had asked Liam to stop, and Liam chose not to listen. Had Zayn learnt teleportation back then, he’d have freed himself without harm. It wasn’t the case, thus he chomped on Liam’s ear.

“I also remember telling you to _not_ tickle me,” he replies, bumping his shoulder into Liam’s. “You tested me, and you paid for it.”

“And then you ‘married’ me three days later, you weirdo.” Liam motions for Zayn to spin around, grabbing the body soap. He takes a sniff off the Cool Safflina scent, recognising it as the new smell on Zayn, before rubbing it in his hands. “What have you been doing? How’s Ifra?”

“Mostly? Missing you every day,” Zayn shoots back, not a thought spare to it. Likewise, he exposes his back and neck to Liam, letting rough hands knead his muscles. “She's all right, I guess. Skinning myself alive. The usual.”

Years come short to spoil what they've built in (roughly) half their lives. Not a chance it can, when they have years worthy of late night talks. Yes, it's nothing that can be done over a bath. Perhaps that's not the point, either. Reconnecting and resuming their friendship is.

For now, Zayn ignores that Impa and that creepy mask have kept Liam from him. They're together. This is their chance to reclaim what’s been temporarily lost, and that's what they should do. Any time spent dwelling in their past keeps them from enjoying this now.

“Did you... ever find someone?”

“I've learnt about my Dad,” Liam replies. He turns Zayn around to scrub his chest now. Unlike him, Zayn has only light halos of hair around the nipples. “He died, too. It's not like I've met him or anything.”

Zayn nibbles the inside of his cheek. “I mean like... a lover. Someone you like _like_.”

Liam’s hands slip, and in his attempt of keeping his balance, they sink and land on Zayn’s thighs. On the _beginning_ of Zayn's thighs.

“I-I don't have anything like that! I was training the whole time!” he stutters, pushing himself off. “Nobody would like a body covered in scars, any way.”

It's then that Zayn notices markings over Liam’s skin. Some look like claws or fangs, whilst others are cuts. They toughen Liam up considerably, but in the end, all Zayn sees is a body forged on exercise and discipline, and that has endured hardships he cannot fathom. Whatever it is that's so atrocious to Liam, Zayn fails to see.

He shakes his head. “It's a beautiful body, _you doughnut_. And got a massive one now, don’t you?”

Liam scoffs. “It was always bigger than yours, though?”

“In your dreams!”

Liam grins, lathering Zayn’s nose with foam. “Unless we count when you're a royal prick, I'm bigger for sure!”

That's it. Zayn tackles them both into the water. Watery tentacles gain life and lick Liam’s side, as well as restrain his limbs. It's a countermeasure, since Zayn can't possibly win in a strength contest. Even so, subduing a hysterical Liam proves no easy feat.

“Zed, no! I'm ticklish!” he begs between breaths. His laughter graces Zayn’s ears the same way he remembers it, perhaps even more gorgeous. “Oi! No magic! You're cheating!”

“Say I'm bigger!”

Liam tries to wiggle his way out, but his squirming only creates more friction between their groins. They're back at their initial situation, except that laughter leaves no room to acknowledge the sudden blood flow for both.

“Say I'm bigger,” Zayn insists. “Say it, and the tickling stops.”

“I'm not lying ‘cos you want me to!” Liam wiggles some more. “The Sheikah never lie!”

“Well, I'll deal with it myself.”

Zayn’s eyes flash, and all the water redirects to Liam’s wrists and ankles. Then, he starts tickling Liam with his own hands, laughing along with his hopeless mate. Still, Liam refuses to give in, and in his stubbornness, pushes Zayn to the ultimate punishment technique.

“You fought bravely, but now I'm getting serious,” Zayn says, his mouth opening to reveal his pearly white canines. “You have my respect, _Leeyum_.”

Zayn closes in on Liam’s right ear. The intense flush on them can only mean embarrassment, and he reckons to be the same, if not for his own stubbornness. Right now, he doesn't think about their naked skin on skin. The only thing to focus on is that they can still tease each other, and that's something no amount of rupees can buy.

“Zed! If you do that—”

The warning comes too late, and it's the only one to do so. The moment Zayn’s teeth sink into Liam’s ear, a warm squirt pours between their stomachs. Zayn stares at the silver stain, then blinks at Liam.

“I didn't— I wasn't— my ears they're—”

The surprise weakens Zayn’s control, and then Liam rolls them into reversed positions. His eyes are wide and scan Zayn’s face with quick, chopped movements.

“I'm so sorry, Zed! Forgive me!” he whispers, barely keeping his bottom lip from trembling. Next, he vanishes to where his Sheikah clothes are, then vanishes completely, once the door clicks closed.

Zayn attests the evidence of their horsing around, rubbing it between his fingertips.

“Did he—?” He puts a hand to his chest. His heart seems keen on breaking free from his rib cage. “ _Leeyum_ , wait! I’m not angry.”

The warmth triggered with every hug they used to have is back, fiercer than ever before. It's now an erupting volcano wreaking havoc in his chest.

#

Zayn visits Sayed’s hut a couple of times, a few days after their sloppy encounter. Every and single time, he finds the old bowyer working by himself. Telepathy is also no good, as Liam doesn’t answer him. At least their link works again, so his attempts at conversation are known. He only wishes Liam would reply, because silence can mean many things.

 _Goddess._ They have just overcome that. Going back to perpetual silence after talking _once_... he doesn’t think his soul can handle it. Not again. Not after briefly tasting a life with Liam back in it, no.

This all should change today, though. As Zayn finishes changing into his ceremonial regalia, he goes over his apologies again. Maybe it’ll come across more easily face-to-face? He’ll bet on this, because he won’t lose his best mate to a little discharge that’s evidence of a healthy body. He’s not mad at Liam, and Liam shouldn’t be, either. They can laugh it off, like an inner joke to them, he’s sure.

“Do you need any help with your lines?”

“Nah, it’s all right,” Zayn replies to Ifra’s reflection over his shoulder. She gives him a stern look, prompting him to clear his throat. “I mean, I appreciate your help, Ifra, but I have already learnt them.”

She nods with a satisfied smile. “Ceremony starts in ten minutes. Do not linger, Your Highness.”

In all honesty, the only thing that makes it interesting for Zayn is Liam’s accolade. He’s been unable to pry details from his dad and Mubariz, but surely it ends tonight. He gets the gist of it, too: Liam is to be awarded knighthood and join Hyrule’s army. With some luck, he’ll score a trip or two with Liam as his escort.

The prospect of visiting another kingdom with Liam beside him has his stomach livelier than he’d like to admit.

“C’mon, Zayn!” he slaps his cheeks till they’re rosy. “Don’t sound too eager! Act natural!”

A crowd already awaits in the ceremonial hall, as well as King Yaser and Queen Tashifa. Zayn takes his own throne, and glances around. Among the many Hylian faces, he spots a few Sheikah, including Impa. Their distinctive red eyes single them out in a sea of cognac and small variations.

Prime Minister Kinza, as per usual, has his disgruntled expression. He doesn’t want to be here, and in all fairness, Zayn doesn’t want him to be, either. Sadly, neither of them get a say in this, and duties must be fulfilled. He better keep his snide remarks to himself, or Zayn will be forced to give him the itchiest arse in the whole Termina.

“It’s starting. Stay focused,” Queen Tashifa whispers to him.

“Yes, Mum,” he replies, turning his attention to the entrance.

The gates open wide, and in march two rows of Royal Knights, thumping their spears rhythmically to the floor. They queue themselves by the long red carpet, at the centre, their spears crossing high above it. The bards begin to play Hyrule’s hymn, and then two soldiers march in. One in black garments—General Mubariz—and one in green, the mark of a rookie knight.

Zayn’s grip on his armrests tightens, as his eyes follow Liam marching towards him and his parents. This Liam is different from his Liam. In a way. It is the same Liam, but also it’s not, if that makes sense. Zayn’s Liam is more carefree and giggly, and a major goof. He leaves Zayn flowers and has no qualms in calling Hyrule’s next king 'a prick’.

This Liam... this Liam has steely eyes and seems ready to end a man’s life with his hands, if need be. He’s hardened as Mubariz, despite the wide gap in experience. Yes, because Mubariz is no stranger to war, and first stepped into a battlefield long before Liam’s birth. This Liam seems burdened with a great purpose, and Zayn can’t say he likes that.

As Liam kneels down, King Yaser meets him, sceptre in hand.

“Brave warrior,” he places his sceptre to Liam’s left shoulder, “do you solemnly swear to protect all ladies, speak only the truth, be devoted to Goddess Hylia, to defend the poor and helpless, be loyal to your king, and remain brave in the face of adversity?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Liam brings a fist to his chest. “I solemnly swear to abide by my oath, here and now, and only wield my arms for justice.”

Zayn swears he sees a fleeting, tiny smile in his dad’s lips. It’s too quick for him to be sure, though.

“Stand up as a knight, in the name of Goddess Hylia,” King Yaser orders. His sceptre goes from one shoulder to another, adding up to seven times. “Arise, my knight. Rise up, Liam of Hyrule!”

Liam complies, slowly returning to his original height. The other knights clash their spears, yelling _“Hylia be with you! Hylia be with you, brother!”_ Kinza comes in with a boring speech about knighthood that Zayn—and seemingly everyone in the room—blocks out till he’s finished.

The accolade is pretty much done. Zayn wonders when his cue is supposed to come in, because Liam’s already a knight. What’s left to do? He knows he’s supposed to give Liam something, but even this _‘something’_ has been kept a secret from him. Maybe Ifra just wanted him to pay attention to the ceremony?

“I am at your disposal, Your Highness.”

Wait. What was the question? Why is Liam kneeling before Zayn’s throne? He gets lost in thought for an instant, and then the world collapses on him.

_Your dad just assigned me as your bodyguard. Give me the bow and take my oath._

Oh, Zayn sees it. N _ow_ _Liam_ knows how telepathy works. Funny, considering he’d forgotten for an entire week. Zayn feels half-inclined to scold him, but again, they’re in public and Liam has just saved him from embarrassment. (Or worse: a lecture from Ifra, his dad, and his mum.)

They can argue later.

“Noble Knight of fearless heart and indomitable soul, receive this token of appreciation,” Zayn says, accepting a Royal Bow from Mubariz, then holding it out to Liam. “May the Goddess smile upon you.”

Head still bowed down, Liam lifts both hands, catching Zayn’s in his palms and holding them above his head.

“I humbly accept your benevolence, and hereby swear to protect you, be my bones or spirit broken.” He raises his head, making eye contact with Zayn for the first time in days. “I shall be your spear and your shield. From today till I draw my last breath.”

_Tha’ sounds too dramatic. Let’s play thumb war to settle it._

The small twitch of the corners of Liam’s lips don’t go unnoticed. But it’s his response that consolidates Zayn’s victory. Because it implies they’re seeing each other, and that’s all Zayn has craved for ten years.

_I’ll get you back later for this._

Zayn returns to his seat with a covert smile. Never before in his life has he looked forward to a threat as he does now.

#

Being the Prince’s bodyguard has its perks, they learn later that night. Granddad Sayed’s top bow, and a quiver of bomb, fire, ice, and shock arrows, to name some. But none of these gifts beat Liam moving back into Hyrule castle, next door to Zayn’s chamber.

“We can sleep together again.”

“No, we _can’t_. We’re adults, Zed.”

Zayn scoffs, abandoning himself into Liam’s new bed. It leaves nothing to be desired when compared to his. The only thing it lacks is an extravagant canopy. Comfort-wise, it’s the same as Zayn. From the mattress down to the pillow of cucco’s feathers.

“Adults. Not banned from having fun forever _,_ ” he counters, rolling onto his back. “We haven’t had a sleepover in, like, ten years. C’mon, _Leeyum!_ C’mon!”

Although Liam rolls his eyes, he does join Zayn in bed. Cautious, at first, then he also rolls on his back, staring at the ceiling. Zayn charms it to show the sky outside, and suddenly they’re stargazing, but in the comfort of a mattress.

“Are we really ignoring I’ve—” Liam clears his throat, “— _spilt_ on you?”

Zayn turns his head sideways. “Wha’? You wan’ me to do the same and call it even?”

A horrified Liam props himself onto his elbows. This position flexes his abs in a way that’s hard for Zayn to look the other way. It’s been two days—discounting this weird week since Liam’s return—so he can’t say he’s used to the view that’s a shirtless Liam.

“No! I didn’t mean it like that!” he protests. “Goddess, you always make it sound so wrong!”

Zayn pulls Liam back onto the mattress, lacing their fingers together. With his free hand he connects the stars on the ceiling, drawing a tall blob with four appendices for feet.

“Remember tha’ time a green ChuChu stung me? And you had to wee on my arm?”

Liam nods.

That was their first and _last_ time leaving the Hyrule’s walls on their own. They were, six? Maybe seven? All Zayn remembers is that Ifra nearly had their livers for lunch for that little escapade. His dad scolded them. Granddad Sayed scolded them. Even Mubariz warned them to not _“pull a stunt like that ever again.”_

What a packed memory.

“It’s the same. We don’t think about it all the time, do we?” he reasons.

“That makes _zero_ sense.” Liam sighs. “They don’t even relate!”

“Whatever. Let’s go to sleep.”

Liam sighs again. “We’re _not_ sleeping together. That’s... inappropriate.”

Inappropriate, inappropriate, inappropriate. _Everything_ seems inappropriate in Liam’s eyes. They’re just sharing a bed. What’s so wrong with that? They’ve done it for half their lives. It’s no novelty to either. And even if Liam says this, his hand is still in Zayn’s, and his forefinger keeps rubbing Zayn’s knuckles. Plus he’s said _‘inappropriate’_ , not that he doesn’t want to.

Begins, then, a long negotiation. It takes time, giggles and some tickling, till they reach an agreement. They’re sleeping in Zayn’s bed, and Liam will leave whenever he first wakes up in the morning. Twice a week, and no more, unless both parties agree on it. It’s up to Zayn to choose little or big spoon, as well as a third option of using Liam’s chest as his pillow. No mention of it to anyone else.

“You're a handful,” Liam grunts. Despite that, he welcomes Zayn into his arms, throwing the covers over both.

Zayn lays his face on Liam’s chest, giggling at the hair on his skin. “I love you, _too_ , _Leeyum_.”

“I love you, too, Royal Prick,” he replies. The kiss he plants atop Zayn’s head has both smiling in their sleep.

If Zayn wakes up to an empty bed the next morning, he won’t even care. In Liam's arms, he's the safest he's ever been.

#

“You've been _oddly_ focused on your training.” Ifra narrows her eyes, leaning closer to Zayn’s face. “ _Too focuse_ d, perhaps.”

Zayn shrugs. He has an idea of what underlying thoughts her words bring. He won't bite the bait, though. She may be right in her assumptions, but that doesn't mean he'll admit it.

“Is tha’ bad?” he asks in fake ignorance.

“Just odd. Not at all bad,” she concedes. “You've neglected it for years— hard to believe you're invested again, I guess.”

Every night Zayn will sleep in Liam's arms, and every morning he'll wake up engulfed in Liam's scent that lingers in his sheets. All this after telling each other their days, face to face, tangled in his bed. He also wakes up to a Silent Princess by his head, so it would be weird that he _wouldn't_ focus on serious matters.

In no way, shape or form does it relate to Liam's threat of withdrawing their ‘sleepover system’ if Zayn’s performance drops.

“That's it for today. We're training advanced recovery magic tomorrow,” Ifra says, closing an old grimoire on advanced water Magic. A tap of her wand prompts the crest of the Goddess Nayru to seal it in golden chains. “You're dismissed.”

How Zayn wishes it'd be his dad to grant him such permission. He teleports back to his room, Liam joining him a moment later.

“I'll need double cuddles tonight,” he says, hovering to his bath. There's still time till the ball, and he can do it himself with his magic, but he prefers to wash up already, if it means using Liam's free time. “This ball will _kill_ me.”

Liam peels his green tunic off, then the chain mail underneath it, then his vest. He catches a sponge floating his way, juggling it along with a bar of Safflina soap, and a sachet of body lotion.

“Your dad wouldn't be chuffed about that,” he replies. “It's supposed to decide your future; not—you know— _end_ it.”

Might as well be it, since Zayn fails to muster any excitement. All these princesses gathered as potential brides... it doesn't please him. He'd just forgotten about his visit to Zora’s Domain, and how Queen Rutela kept listing her daughter's talents, whilst it was her son giving Zayn the shameless looks. And no offence to the Zora, but... they're fish. Not as much as the river-dwelling Zora, but still fish.

“I'd prefer marrying someone I love.” Zayn lowers himself into the water, looping his arms over Liam’s thighs. He tilts his head backwards, till he's staring into sympathetic, scarlet eyes. “I always heard of love, and now I'm supposed to forget everything.”

“You didn't seem so hesitant when I proposed to you.” Liam laughs, and laughs, then halts, cocking an eyebrow. “Do you even have a lover?”

Zayn flinches. He's asked the same a few weeks ago, and now acts as if Liam has asked him to confess a crime. He wants to believe he just hadn't expected it. That's it. This is no different from being lost in thought and getting startled by hearing your own name.

“Nothing like tha’, I suppose...” he trails off. The red of Liam’s eyes seem to bore holes through his soul, forcing him to avert his eyes. “I'm not... experienced, or anything.”

“Maybe Princess Mipha can change that. Or her _brother_.”

When Zayn looks up again, he finds two bushy eyebrows wiggling at him. There's also a smile that, while radiant, seems too smug to carry any innocence. This the face of a man who knows exactly what he's implied, and Zayn can't have that.

“You prick—”

“Oh, Prince Zayn,” Liam starts in a high-pitched voice, “I want to learn what shape the water really is!”

Discounted the time spent— _wasted_ —wrestling and guffawing in the bath, Zayn bathes and dresses in no time. Liam also takes the opportunity to bathe, once his trousers and undergarments are soaked. Since Zayn agrees on drying them with heat magic later, he loosens up a bit, and doesn't freak out as much as he would when Ifra knocks on Zayn’s door. The memory of their first encounter is still fresh, thus he dresses away from Zayn’s eyes, and quickly, too.

“These are strange.” Liam turns right, then left, checking his reflection on the mirror. He tugs at the front of his double-breasted coat, folding it right, then reversing it, before pouting at Zayn in hopelessness. “A little help?”

In an instant, yeah. First, Zayn takes his time to appreciate Liam’s outfit. (Or just Liam in this outfit. He's not sure which one.)

The first impression is that it suits Liam. The piece hugs his muscles, still allowing mobility. They're similar to what Mubariz wears, but in a different colour and fewer decorations. There's a gallant factor that both the knight tunic and the traditional Sheikah hear lack. Had Zayn not known, he could mistake Liam for an actual prince.

“Zed?” Liam tries again in a soft whisper.

“Sorry, sorry!” Zayn shakes his head, beaming as he closes the distance between them. “Got me dazzled for a minute. Looking sharp, mate!”

Liam titters. “Stop pulling my leg.”

“I'm not? Have you seen yourself” He makes quick work of the six buttons, turning Liam to the mirror again. His arms snake around Liam’s waist, and with the help of his toes, his chin rests on Liam’s shoulder. “You're beautiful, _Leeyum_. A gorgeous lad with a big heart.”

“I can only see a freak.” Liam scoffs at his own reflection. “A freak with freaky red eyes.”

Zayn’s hand turns Liam around, and sandwiches his face between them, in a swift motion.

“Don't ever say tha’. They're part of who you are,” he says in a carefully chosen tone. Serious enough to express his frustration, but also gentle that Liam won't think it's some ‘order from the prince’. “You're gorgeous from head to toes. I hate when you don't see how brill you are.”

Before Liam can protest again, Zayn starts peppering his face in kisses. He starts with the eyelids, then cheeks, then forehead, then button nose. By the last one Liam giggles again, and only his bashfulness can surpass his adorable, reserved smile.

They smile at each other for who knows how long. Zayn’s thumbs never stop caressing Liam’s cheeks, and at some point an urge grows inside him: he needs to appreciate Liam's face from up close. And that's what he does, gravitating closer and closer, barely aware of it. Liam's irises look bigger, Liam's breath is hot on his face, and the tip of Liam's nose meets his, brushing slightly.

A gravitational pull draws him in, and it won't stop. He inches close— closer— and there's a barely there brush against his lips—

_“Zayn? Are you finished?”_

Zayn leaps backwards, whilst Liam vanishes at the knocking on his door.

“Coming, Ifra!” he calls out, sighing.

Hand to his chest, he tries to placate his heart, but it's useless: the beating won’t stop. Well, he supposes he doesn't want it to stop, if he wants to stay alive. Just finding its usual rhythm would suffice. A more placid rhythm that doesn't threaten to burst his chest open. “Fuck.”

Zayn drops to his knees, head cradled in his arms. He buries his face into his sheets, but it only causes Liam’s scent to assault his nostrils. There’s no escape, is there? He clutches it, takes a long sniff, breathing out through his mouth. This can't go on. One of these days he'll cross a line, and he'll lose Liam.

That day, he'll have no one but himself to blame.

“Fuck,” he hisses, headbutting his mattress. When he flips over, he finds his fingers ghosting over his bottom lip. “Fuck,” he repeats, abandoning his arms wide open onto the bed.

#

“Are you positive he's not of royal descent?”

The questions through the night are just variations of this one to a smaller degree. The first few times are passable of ignorance, as they're whispers and murmurs not meant to Zayn’s ears. From the moment they're directed at him, though, it's impossible to ignore them. And Liam’s hearing is even better than any other Hylian, which means he's more aware of them than anyone else.

Zayn’s about to conjure a bunch of caterpillars on Deku Princess’ grassy hair.

“His ability is second to none,” Zayn says sternly, shoving a chalice of sparkly water in Deku Princess’ hands. Do plants even drink this? He doesn't know, nor does he care. “I trust him with my life. Today, tomorrow, and all days that are to come.”

The pudgy princess looks up at him through her fringe of leaves and grass. Her eerie eyes —like flames burning in a dark cave— scrutinise his face for a moment, then she downs her drink with unprecedented grace for how she carries herself.

“A special bond, I suppose,” she finally says. Her gaze travels through the hall, to where another female Deku Scrub, of more modest attire watches them till their eyes meet. “I can... sympathise. Be sure to honour his loyalty as a good king,” she adds, turning to him again.

Zayn doesn't know what to make out of her words, and even if he wanted to, the royal Zora siblings, Mipha and Sidon, interrupt him. Deku Princess nods, then takes her leave.

Mipha coils her scaly arm around Zayn’s, grinning at him. “Is that your _famous_ best mate?”

“It's easy to mistake him for royalty,” Sidon points out, though his tone is more condescending and less impressed than his sister's. “Not bad for a mong—”

Zayn loosens the grip on Sidon’s wrist, wondering about the moment he even reached for it.

“Watch your tongue.” His tone to the Zora Prince is urgent and harsh: everything it _shouldn't_ be towards another member of royalty. “Do not speak of him in such manner, _Your Highness_.”

Nothing suggests that Mipha notices the heavy atmosphere, but then her actions hint otherwise.

She drags her brother with her. “I am going to have a word with him, if you don't mind.”

Whether Zayn minds or not, she's already introducing herself to a bashful Liam the next moment. Though her actions generally lack ill, it's her brother to worry Zayn the most.

“Mongrel” evokes the attitude of Prime Minister Kinza, and so many that dismiss Liam’s worth for who he is. Just two syllables to send Zayn’s blood to boil. He can accept all the things said about himself—unfit for a king, capricious, spoilt—he's grown up with this kind of gossip. What he'll never accept is people looking down on somebody like Liam. That's forever a point of friction for him and his own mum, so anyone else pretty much child’s play.

_What should I do, Your Highness?_

Zayn blinks out of his daze to find Liam nodding at Mipha’s questions with a lowered gaze. He isn’t any more keen on this chat than Liam, but he should thank her for making Liam contact him. In this regard, yes, Zayn’s thankful for her bubbly, meddling personality.

_No highness here; only me. Need any help?_

There’s buffing in his mind, forcing Zayn to bite the inside of his lip to keep a laugh from escaping him.

_Get your future queen to let me do my job, please._

_Me ‘future queen’? Ehh... I suppose I don’t wanna help any more._

Liam’s smile becomes strained, once Sidon also starts with questions. Whereas Mipha’s dolphin-like features make her more approachable, Sidon’s shark teeth make him a little intimidating. Not that Liam would lose to him in a fight—Zayn doesn’t think so—but then, beating up a prince would cause a diplomatic problem.

His wedding, Zayn understands, comes to reinforce Zora and Hyrule’s good relations. Pasting the Zora’s twat of a prince would accomplish the exact opposite.

_Zed... please._

_Okay, okay. Just promise to go with me to the Picori Festival and stop being weird._

_I’m your knight. I **have** to follow you._

_And I said ‘go with me’ not ‘follow me’. Go with me as my... best mate._

A tired sigh in Zayn’s mind makes it harder to keep a straight face. He doesn’t wait for a response to intervene with a made-up excuse that requires Liam’s help. As soon as they leave the ballroom, he grabs Liam’s hand and teleports them to his own bedroom.

Only that he miscalculates, and they end up dropping from the ceiling into his bed. Through the canopy that fails to withstand their weight and collapses in on them.

“Did you want to leave _that_ bad?” Liam laughs, pushing and kicking the wooden poles off them. He nudges Zayn’s shoulder, and waits till Zayn’s face is no longer buried in his chest. “You nearly got us impaled!” he adds, laughing even harder.

“That’s not how you thank people for rescuing you,” Zayn huffs. Despite his pout, a smile tugs at his lips, as he rests his chin on his hands and on Liam’s chest, and watches pure, boyish giggles. “You’re welcome, though.”

Liam lifts his head again to look at Zayn. He doesn’t keep the position for too long, as it strains his neck, but it’s enough for their eyes to meet and hold contact in comfortable silence. Zayn’s fingers tug at his buttons, whilst Liam’s own fingers strum no particular beat to Zayn’s back.

“‘I trust him with my life. Today, tomorrow, and all days that are to come,’” Liam recites, as if trying to recall a passage he’s read somewhere. Somehow, it sounds oddly familiar to Zayn’s ears. “You really trust me that much?”

 _Oh._ That’s right. The talk with the Deku Princess. He almost forgot it, between Sidon’s prejudice and nearly impaling them on his canopy. He’s more curious about Liam’s small indiscretion, as it’s not like him to eavesdrop.

Zayn lays his head on Liam’s chest. He can hear a heartbeat, and no other sound can live up to it. Because of this steady beating, he can share this existence with Liam. It’s because of this beating that his world feels just a little with an eminent political wedding.

“I’ve trusted you for 24 years, now— wha’ to be surprised about?”

“We’re both twenty-four,” Liam points out.

“Exactly.” Zayn lets his hand wander over the mattress, crawl over Liam’s arm, and finally lace their fingers together. His thumb rubs on the back of Liam’s hand, just like Liam’s forefinger rubs his. “You feel familiar to me... like home. Always have, always will.”

The sniffle obviously doesn’t escape Zayn’s ears, but he pretends to not hear it. Usually, he’d tease, poke some fun to get some laughs out of Liam. Not right now. Because he knows just like Liam has heard his talks, Liam has also heard the gossiping. Ten years of excruciating training, heralded with one of the highest honours in the kingdom, and he’s still gossip fodder for some.

If Zayn can’t change it without becoming a dictator, he’ll at least make sure Liam feels loved. Loved the way he deserves to be. Loved for who he is. Loved for all he’s become.

“I’ll stay by your side and make you a great king,” Liam says, letting out a shaky breath. “I promise that.”

With a quick motion, Zayn disentangles their fingers and pushes himself up. He crawls up till their eyes align, then kisses Liam’s cheek.

“Stay by my side, and you already made me happy,” Zayn whispers, abandoning himself into the safety of Liam’s arms. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Cursed be the ball that requires Zayn’s presence, for it cuts their moment short. Before they return, however, Zayn whispers a small confession into Liam’s ear.

“You’re my favourite part of being a prince.”

#

“Your High—” An unimpressed look disarms Liam, prompting him to change his speech. “Uhh... Zed, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“It is for me,” Zayn beams back, crushing the shell of a Korok seed in his wooden mortar. “I assume all the responsibility; you just need to have fun.”

Liam peers over the many oddly-shaped flasks, flames and boiling liquids. He doesn’t understand much of alchemy, but watching Zayn play with it fascinates him. He always anticipates the next mixture, except for this very occasion, that he knows Zayn’s goal.

(And can’t really say he agrees with it.)

“Ifra is going to _murder_ us.” He passes a beaker with an infusion of Keese wing, upon Zayn’s request. “She’ll notice we’re not around. She’s not daft.”

But Zayn pays no mind. He simply shrugs it off, and kisses the back of Liam’s hand, making both giggle. It’s been like this their entire lives: Zayn comes up with a plan, he reluctantly agrees, they have fun and get in trouble later with King Yaser and Ifra. Rinse and repeat. In a way, Liam enjoys that it hasn’t changed. But again, they’re now _adults_ seeking trouble.

Some mixing here. A little more mincing over there. Generous scoops of powder to finish. A dark liquid fizzles, fading into a lilac colour when cooled down with a handy ice spell. Liam watches Zayn pour it into two chalices. One that’s offered to him, and the second one that Zayn keeps to himself.

“Here’s to the birth of Zenia and Lihaj,” Zayn says, lifting his cup an inch from his lips. Liam does the same, only that his arm links with Zayn’s. “To a day of beautiful memories!”

“To a day of beautiful memories,” Liam repeats. “Hopefully”

Each pulls out a beard hair and drops it in the other’s chalice. Then, they drink it slowly, never breaking eye contact. Once they’ve drained their drinks, there’s not much to do besides waiting. It takes about half an hour for the potion’s effect to kick in. Once it does, though, two different people stare back at them in the mirror.

Zayn rakes a hand through his now fair hair. It’s much longer than his actual hair, reaching his lower back. Not much has changed about his already delicate features, though his eyes are now scarlet, and his beard is gone. His skin is also paler, as if he’d been skipping sunbathing for months.

Liam has changed slightly more. The scarlet in his eyes is gone for good, replaced by the typical brown of a Hylian. The hair on his face and head is dark as a moonless night. His features are also different, more delicate like Zayn’s. All traces of his birthmarks are gone, and instead of pale tone, he carries a richer shade to his skin.

For the first time in his existence, the word ‘normal’ comes to Liam as a descriptive for himself.

“What you think?” he asks.

Zayn steps closer—perhaps too close—eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I definitely prefer your red eyes.”

“But these eyes are—”

“Beautiful, yes,” Zayn supplies for him with a small grin. “Lihaj’s eyes aren’t bad. I just love _Leeyum’s_ eyes. That’s all.”

A violent heat creeps up Liam’s neck, which he attributes to a side effect of the potion. It’s his first time as a full Hylian. He’s sure some more symptoms will come up later. He’ll just endure them for Zayn’s sake and let him have fun.

“The effect should last till the tournament.” Zayn sets two small bottles and two corks on his desk. “I’ll make a quick antidote, just in case, but...”

Liam swallows. Around 90% of the time that Zayn trails off, it means serious trouble. Not the kind they always get into, but a worse predicament.

“‘But...”?”

“I’d need a greater dose of genetic material like...” Zayn averts his eyes to the floor. “Like a... man’s ‘seeds’.”

Liam’s chalice skids and rattles across the floor. There’s a chance he’s misunderstood Zayn’s words. It can’t be what he thinks it is. Granted, Zayn wouldn’t avoid his eyes like this for something milder, so he can’t come to any other conclusion.

“Can’t we add more hair instead?”

Zayn glances up, then back at his feet again. “We’d cough hairballs like cats.”

What Liam doesn’t realise—and it makes everything a thousand times worse—is that Zayn doesn’t mean in _each other’s_ antidotes. To revert to a Sheikah, Liam needs Sheikah material, as in his own. Not Zayn’s. But then, a mortified Zayn has to undo the misunderstanding, and it makes it seems he’s wanted Zayn to—

Oh my Goddess.

“S-So I just fill this up, right?” Liam snatches one of the short bottles. “Consider it done!”

“‘Fill’ would be too much; Just—” Zayn tilts his head side to side “—into it, and it should be enough.” He pauses, hugging his own bottle to his chest. “You do know how to...”

Liam nods vehemently. He doesn’t mean to shout, but somehow his voice comes out much louder than intended. It may or may not relate to the rush of blood in his ears. He prefers not to find out.

“Yeah, yeah! It’s all good! It’s all good!” he replies, also snatching the set of clothes Zayn holds out for him.

The comfort of Liam’s room gives him privacy to take care of the task. He has to dress in these commoner Hylian’s clothes, so might as well start early. Stains are unacceptable, so he’ll keep the attire away for now.

A balled-up rag, his bottle, a little imagination, some ointment, and a lot of friction. These are the ingredients to his success. Upon finishing, he spits his rag out and readily caps the pudgy bottle.

_I’m finished over here. You?_

It’s quicker to show up than to reply to Zayn’s question, and that’s what Liam does. He reappears in Zayn’s room, only to find a flustered Zayn dressed in typical Sheikah outfit. Zayn’s bottle contains gold—unlike his with silver—and another beaker of dark potion awaits them on his desk.

“Help me mix it,” Zayn instructs, waving him in.

Liam uncaps both bottles, then carefully fills them with potion. A little stirring finishes the job, resulting in a faded aquamarine mixture. It’s so clear, he could mistake it for seawater. Without being told, he’d never guess what’s mixed in there.

“Why two, though?” he asks, recounting the bottles in Zayn’s hands, and yeah, that’s four.

Zayn passes two phials to him. “Precaution. Always have a back-up strategy.”

“General Mubariz?”

Zayn nods. “I’ll leave some here for an emergency, too.”

They each pocket two phials of antidote before Zayn teleports to Hyrule’s entrance. Even with the festival and many visitors, it’d be odd for strangers to simply sprout into town. They need to enter the Kingdom just like everyone else.

“Ready when you are,” Zayn beams.

And okay, Liam understands it at first (or thinks he does). But then he sees Zayn’s extended hand, and suddenly he’s not so sure.

Zayn cocks an eyebrow up. “Give me your hand, you doughnut.”

“We can’t”. Liam shakes his head. “We can’t just walk around—”

It’s a brief moment between Zayn lacing their fingers together, and producing a fist sized mirror before Liam’s face. Liam stares at the raven-haired guy with dark hair blinking back at him.

“It’s fine to hold my hand, Lihaj, my love.” Zayn bursts into giggles next, holding their conjoined hands up. “We’re boy and girl, remember? Nobody’s going to bother us.”

Maybe, but that’s not Liam’s reason for opposing it. Neither is that he’s repulsed by the idea of holding hands with Zayn. It’s just— this familiarity spells danger. It reminisces of the times they would go hand-in-hand _everywhere_.

This small gesture reminds him of them chasing after cucco’s chicks and getting swarmed on by enraged by adult birds. It’s also how they would hold hands for no reason other than _“we’re married, and married people do this.”_

And there’s too much comfort in it to not worry.

Liam bites his bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

“I wan’ it, if you wan’ it, too.”

Seeing Zayn’s smile, Liam also smiles, squeezing Zayn’s hand back. It should be fine. It’s just an outing for some harmless fun. What can possibly go wrong?

#

First stop, the ring toss booth. Zayn hasn’t improved from their younger days, it seems. Liam is yet to comprehend how somebody so skilled with a bow can be utterly bad at ring tossing. A little magic should help, but then, that would be cheating. Not to mention Zayn plays it for the sake of playing. Ever since they were toddlers, he’d challenge Liam, already aware of the outcome. He plays it for fun, like his carefree laughter makes evident.

“You’re still rubbish.” Liam laughs, looping his arm around Zayn’s shoulder. “I need you to know that.”

Zayn laughs some more, burying his face into the crook of Liam’s neck. He nuzzles his button nose against the skin, the resulting friction sending a shiver down Liam’s spine.

“Well, I tried, yeah?” His nose rubs up and down Liam’s neck. “Now, win something for me, my love.”

Liam freezes up. Has he heard it right? He stares at Zayn’s pleading eyes, searching for an answer that never comes. Zayn’s _scarlet_ eyes. He keeps forgetting they’re other people now, and supposedly lovers. Zayn plays it so convincingly, he has trouble playing along.

“Which one?” Liam asks, winding up his right arm. “Choose one, and I’ll get it for ya.”

Naturally, Zayn chooses the first prize: a carved figure of Hyrule’s castle. One of Chafik’s works, if only a replica of his original work. These take time and ability to finish, and a lucky shot and a few rupees can’t cover it. For Zayn, Liam reckons it’s sentimental value above anything else.

The three rupees he pays are more than enough for two castles. His reward for winning them are a kiss to his cheek and Zayn’s smile, of course. A wide smile of pure glee that releases butterflies into Liam’s heart, pulling at the corner of his mouth. There’s something special about watching an adult stash things away like a hoarding Miniblin, he supposes.

“I’ll have more luck on tha’ one.”

In the direction Zayn’s points to, there’s a booth with a sizeable group of kids in a circle. Given the rods some of them hold, it’s safe to admit it’s Beedle’s fishing booth.

Liam has a vague recollection of it being a hit among the kids, back when he still lived here. Beedle’s attractions always bring some novelty that kids love. The man’s way of conducting his business is still shady at the very best, though.

“Are you sure?” Liam purses his lips. “That’s _Beedle_ we’re talking about.”

Zayn nods vehemently. “I heard he’s a _tiny_ bit better than back then.”

“You ‘heard’?” Liam’s brow furrows. “The festival happens every year.”

It’s one thing for Liam, because he’s been away for a decade. But Zayn has lived in Hyrule since birth. It’s a little unlikely he’d been too busy to take part in the festivities 10 times in a row.

“I didn’t have much of a reason to participate with you gone.” The confession comes in an oddly small voice. A smile plays on his lips when he meets Liam’s gaze again. “I knew you would come back.”

Liam smiles back. These aren’t the kind of words that should throw his heart into disarray, yet they do. A part of him worries about Zayn waiting for him, especially in front of absolute silence of the past years, yes. Above that, though, his stomach flutters on learning that Zayn has believed in him all this time. This unabashed trust floods his chest, like the calming waters of Lake Hylia.

“Must make most of it, yeah?” He weaves their fingers together again, placing a kiss to Zayn’s hand. “Make up for the lost time and stuff.”

The moment Zayn beams, all air leaves Liam’s lungs. Their appearance is different, yet he still sees Zayn there. Zenia isn’t a thought in his mind. He sees past her blonde hair and red eyes without focusing on it. All he sees is Zayn, and all he touches is Zayn. And maybe that’s how the spell works, so they can recognise each other, but he won’t really ask. This is still _their_ time.

Once they reach Beedle’s booth, the pieces begin to fall into place. Because not even Zayn knows why Beedle has looked the same for ten years. It’s the same lanky man in a groin cloth, barefoot, and smacking his wares with a large paper fan.

The kids’ attention, though, resides with a dozen Bombchus scurrying around a large, empty bath. The mouse-shaped bombs—and here Liam assumes they’re diffused—have tin rings to their tails, an addition they usually lack. Blunt hooks chase after them, but with their erratic movement, catching a single one is rather the challenge.

“Come in! Come in, beautiful couple!” Beedle greets with his best vendor smile. “Experience the thrill of Chu Fishing! Only 30 rupees a try!”

Liam takes out a single purple rupee. “I’ll want one, please.”

The actual fishing... yeah, isn’t as easy as Zayn had anticipated. He’s tasked with focusing on the Bombchus, ignoring the kids’ stares, and keeping his line from snaring. Sure, his concentration is commendable, but there’s a breaking point for everyone, even to a tenacious Zayn.

And 32 _almost-catches_ might be it for him, Liam reckons.

“You won’t catch them using your eyes. Try predicting its next move,” he advises, his hands coming to encase Zayn’s. “Close your eyes and focus on their sound. Breathe in and out.”

Out of sync at first, their breathing slowly becomes one. Colourful points dance behind Liam’s eyelids in erratic patterns. The remaining points either don’t move as much or don’t move at all. There’s a bigger, warmer point glued to his chest, that to his surprise responds to his grip.

“Hold the rod firmly.” Liam cracks an eye open when a young voice giggles beside him, silencing it with a single-eyed glare. _Teenagers_. “Wait and reel in. Feel it, don’t watch it.”

A single hook emerges from the bath, heavier than before. A small Bombchu dangles from it, under the awe of every kid around. Beedle gaps at it no better than his customers, and it makes one wonder if he's ever expected anyone to succeed.

“Congratulations on your conquest,” Beedle says. With a dip of his hand, he plunges the Bombchu in a red solution that corrodes the mechanical mouse. “You’ve earned prize 13.”

The prize in question lies on one of the three shelves behind Beedle. Initially, Liam assumes it to be one of the bottles with colourful liquid in them. He's heard about picolyte from Zayn, and he can't deny some interest in this mysterious drink. (No one knows how it's done, and only Beedle sells them.)

However, what Beedle holds out isn't a bottle. Least of all full of picolyte.

“A wand?” Zayn holds up a metallic rod no larger than a fork. “All that for a wand?”

The kids burst into giggles and teasing. It’s against Liam’s policy to be mean to kids, but he can’t let an affront to Zayn’s kindness slide. So, he may or may not make his aura menacing to startle them into silence.

“More than ‘a wand’ it is!” Beedle repeatedly taps his fan to his palm, chuckling to himself. “Try out that button and behold the fine equipment you’ve acquired!”

Zayn gives Liam an uncertain look. Yeah, he, too, has caught the salesperson in Beedle’s tone. Of course, he’s not going to knock his own wares down. But even if it’s a wand that Liam can’t use, it’s still one Zayn got for him, and thus he shall cherish as his own treasure.

“The fu—”

Although Liam’s quick hand covers Zayn’s mouth before the swear comes out, the same words echo in his mind. Like all around them, he watches the ‘wand’ sprout another nine segments of the same length, forming a staff. Then a tenth bar sprouts on one tip, and from it a small circle that unfolds into a bigger one, and finally a net in malleable, metallic threads.

“An authentic Sheikah ware: The Super Net!” Beedle beams, picking it off the ground and returning it to Zayn. “Light, sturdy, and multi-purpose. Catch birds, bugs and even fairies. One-year warranty.”

Sensing Zayn’s doubts, Liam presses the button a second time.

“We’ll take it,” he says, only smiling back in response to Zayn’s bewildered look. “I don’t suppose you’d try to deceive a Sheikah.”

Beedle shakes his head vehemently. “Honesty is my policy. Especially to such a fair lady.”

The salesman clearly refers to Zayn, whereas Liam refers to himself. There’s no helping it when he’s disguised as a Hylian. Beedle’s remark rubs him in the wrong way, he can’t say the man is wrong— even with a different gender, Zayn remains beautiful.

Liam kisses Zayn’s forehead to convey his gratitude.

“Thanks, babe,” he says, his hand already merging with Zayn’s. “C’mon. Let’s grab something to eat.”

The walk to Wazir and Parnia’s food stand is a silent one. Liam checks on Zayn a few times, but every time finds that Zayn’s gaze is lost on the ground they cover. A trance so deep, not even Parnia’s famous pumpkin pie seems able to free him from.

Or so Liam thinks.

“Why did you take it? I wanted something special for ya.”

Liam has his teeth ready to sink in, but instead, lowers his croissant. He turns to Zayn to find himself already under a scrutinising gaze. Zayn’s lips form a slight pout, too, further evidence this requires his full attention.

“A net bug, really?”

Liam arches his eyebrows up. “Is that why you’re sulking?”

“I asked first.” Zayn confiscates his croissant, glaring at him. “Why won't you let me do nice things for you?!”

“Like what? An intricate plan to let me enjoy my first festival in my home town in a decade?” he asks, not really waiting for a response. His index and middle fingers drum down on his chin, as he looks skywards. “Or maybe hanging out with me and giving me a high-tech gift?” He shakes his head, eyes meeting Zayn’s again. “I don’t know. Why would you even do any of that?”

When Zayn averts his eyes, all bashful and with a tiny smile on his lips, Liam knows he’s won.

“They’re all special ‘cos they’re from _you_.” Liam bumps their shoulders together, the impact evoking a giggle out of both. They only stop when he catches Zayn’s chin between his fingers and their eyes meet once more. “Stop overthinking and enjoy it with me.”

Zayn nods. “Okay.”

They linger in this position for a while longer, peering into each other’s eyes. Liam wipes some filling off Zayn’s mouth, but never retrieves his finger. His thumb proceeds to caress Zayn’s bottom lip, and he’s unable to stop himself. All of his focus is on Zayn’s movements, and thus he barely notices his own. On the other hand, he can’t miss how Zayn swallows hard, or the desperate thumping coming from Zayn’s chest. He just can’t.

And then, his eyes start to close, just like Zayn’s. The distance between their faces grows smaller and smaller, and—

“Ewwww!”

Liam leaps backwards on the bench. His untouched croissant—along with Zayn’s pumpkin pie—meets its end on the dusty ground, rendered inedible. The culprits stand a few feet away, making kissy faces and disgusted noises at him.

Zayn stands up, stomping on the wasted food. “You little—”

The kids scramble in different directions, laughing and screaming as they mingle with the crowd.

“And wha’ is so funny?” He slaps Liam on the chest with the back of his hand. “My pie!”

“I’ll buy a new slice, then we can visit _all_ the other booths.” It’s not his intention to taunt Zayn, and he hopes the pinky held out can transpire that. “What you say?”

Begrudgingly, Zayn grins, hooking their pinkies together. “If you promise to win the tournament, yeah.”

“You have my word, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vambrace: Forearm guards.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	2. Morning

**II**

The loudhailer announces the upcoming tournament, a premature ending to their escapade. Zayn teleports them back to Liam’s room, and then—once sure Ifra has left—to his own. The phials of antidote are downed in one go, and their original forms restored within a minute. Goodbye Lihaj and Zenia. Thanks for your help and a morning of normality.

_I'm going to the arena. Wish me luck._

_Be careful, Leeyum._

By the time Zayn arrives, Ifra has chewed down Liam’s stand-ins to the bone. Not literally, of course, though he can’t say how close to it she’s come. His apologies can do little to compensate for their inconvenience. Yet, he still offers them. Thinking five men could replace Liam had been a tactical error on his part, you see.

“Join the King and the Queen,” Ifra orders, shooing him with her hands. “Go, already!”

Trumpets announce Zayn’s and his parents’ entrance. This first part he blocks out completely. He knows the rules already— no sharp weapons, no hitting vital points, no killing. Seems pretty easy and straightforward, but these never are, he’s learnt over the years.

“Without further ado, onward with this year's Picori Tournament!” King Yaser proclaims. “Let us see the brackets! Brave warriors, come forth!”

This year is different from any other Zayn remembers. Usually, he'd expect a bunch of Mubariz’ men, a few villagers, and a few Gerudo. Then, they'd have as many as 50 matches (all very quick) to decide the winner. Again, one of Mubariz’ men, since any Gerudo participating only cares about finding a suitable man to father their child.

So, eight fighters is a hell of a cut. May them show better fights, then. It’s what Zayn expects from Liam, at least, because he can only imagine what 10 years or diligent training has done. And he wants to root, cheer with his every fibre, but his role as the prince rules that he can't pick favourites.

Not explicitly, any way.

“Warriors! Show us good, honoured battles!” King Yaser tells them.

A randomiser spell decides the upcoming battles. The Gerudo shall face a Sheikah girl that seems to know Liam. Mubariz’ knight gets to fight a short Zora boy. The lanky boy with a purple hood faces a Goron thrice his size. And lastly comes Liam against a tall guy from the bird tribe, the Rito.

“Hylia be with you.” King Yaser holds his sceptre aloft, conjuring a transmutation spell that turns every weapon within the arena into wood. “May the best warrior win!”

Remaining fighters clear way for the first fight: Urbosa, a Gerudo warrior, versus Lisa, a petite Sheikah girl. Zayn seldom meets a Gerudo, but even he can tell: this one is strong. With her fiery hair and a muscular build that rivals Impa’s, Urbosa gives an impression similar to Mubariz.

Lisa, on the other hand, is even more baby-faced than a clean-shaven Liam. She must still be a teenager, for all Zayn can tell. Younger than him, that’s for sure. But she’s a Sheikah, and if there’s something that tribe can do, that’d be _fighting_.

As soon as Zayn’s handkerchief touches the floor, the women’s wooden blades collide. Lisa’s is circular, the spikes that cover its perimeter making it resemble a typical sketch of the sun. Urbosa’s, though closer to the swords Zayn has seen, bends into a prominent curve.

 _“And their unusual blades clash!”_ the narrator exclaims. _“The warriors seem to be measuring each other’s strength! What will come out of this?!”_

Urbosa has the advantage in weight and strength, and pushes Lisa back with a swing of her sword. Lisa still tries to land a hit mid-air, but Urbosa parries her strike with a round shield.

_She’s good. You know her?_

Zayn waits a moment before Liam’s reply comes through their link.

_A mate’s sister. Haven’t seen her in ages, though._

The next instant, Lisa vanishes, much like Liam always does, and attempts to strike Urbosa’s blind spot. Again, her strike gets parried, this time by a scimitar, as a hard kick lands on her stomach. She rolls through the air, landing on all fours like a hissing cat.

_She looks so... feral. And wha’ with tha’ round sword?_

_Nothing she’s learnt or found in the village. I know I haven’t._

What would explain Impa’s frown throughout the match. Liam’s words stir more uneasy in Zayn than they offer assurance.

Lisa keeps attacking Urbosa from random angles, and every time she’s blocked. The frustration of not connecting a hit grows more and more, till she’s finally tackled to the ground. (In a smart move, Urbosa discards her sword as a distraction and uses her shield to attack.)

“Forfeit, young one,” Urbosa orders. Her scimitar falls into her grip, and she balances Lisa’s chin on its end. “This match is over.”

However, Lisa doesn’t comply. Her red eyes flash purple, and she vanishes away from Urbosa.

 _“But what is that?!”_ the narrator all but shrieks. “Competitor Urbosa is bleeding!”

In fact, a small, crimson river trickles along Urbosa’s left thigh. A good few metres away, a purple-eyed Lisa licks the same red off a sickle she now wields, cackling.

_Shit! She’s with Yiga!_

_She’s a wha’? Leeyum! Leeyum!_

Mubariz and other knights form a protection circle around Zayn and his parents. The remaining knights point their arrows at Lisa. Lightning crackles as shock arrows soar through the arena to stun the teenage girl.

“Down with Hyrule’s Royal Family!” Lisa yells, vanishing once more. “Death to all who stand in our way!”

Panic infects the crowd. People scream and flee for the exit, their numbers clogging the way out, despite the large gates. The guards’ attempts at placating them are useless, as nobody listens. Their responses are driven only by fear, and fear has no master, except the primal instinct of survival.

Among the commotion, Zayn catches a glimpse of Liam helping Urbosa stand, and decides to focus his attention on them.

“Ms. Urbosa, are you all right?”

The Gerudo smiles and nods. “Worry not, young _voe_. It takes more to finish Lady Urbosa.”

_“If you stand with them, you’re also an enemy, Gerudo.”_

Lisa’s disembodied voice echoes through the Colosseum. It’s as if she’s become one with air, and for that pinpoint her location becomes impossible. Even Zayn notices something sinister wafting from her, and he, for one, knows the Sheikah have no magic.

Urbosa shifts her weight to her unharmed leg, and grabs Liam by the back of his tunic. “Leave her to me, Hylian _voe_.”

There’s hardly a say in it, as she single-handedly hurls Liam across the arena. Luckily, Zayn’s reaction allows him to teleport himself to Liam, and back to his seat.

“Ze— Your Highness!” Liam blinks. “What am I doing on your lap?”

 _“Not getting your head smashed,”_ is what Zayn wants to reply, but then thunder roars above them. A neon green hemisphere expands Urbosa’s location, and the same green of lighting strikes within it at the snap of her fingers. The glare dies out, and once it does, a body lies at her feet.

Every single person in the crowd has quieted down.

“Oi! I’ve caught the Sheikah _vehvi!_ ” she announces in a thunderous voice, waving the sickle that has earned her a wounded leg. “Come fetch her!”

“Liam, Zareef, come with me!” Mubariz orders.

There goes Zayn’s chance of checking on Liam. Nothing else he can do, he supposes. After Lisa’s clear declaration of war on Hyrule, they’ll interrogate her. There’s the whole Yiga- _whatever_ Liam has mentioned to him, too. But if he asks anything, people might suspect Liam, and shift blame onto him.

The best course of action—and here Zayn has to agree with his dad—is to calm the crowd down and carry on with the schedule. If this conspiracy is a minor scheme, then there's no point in making it into something bigger. If for any reason it's more intricate than a deranged teenager with a concealed blade, cancelling the festival will only feed the fear sowed in people's hearts.

King Yaser jumps to action, proving the wits that have made him ruler of this land.

An encouraging speech in, and they proceed with the second match. Starts and _ends,_ because Daruk—the Goron boy—accidentally tosses his mallet away, therefore losing the match. The transmutation leaves his weapon unbalanced, and unfamiliar with new weight, he throws it outside the Colosseum.

But if Daruk’s non-match dulls Zayn’s enthusiasm, the next one fires it back again. His mum’s scolding and Mubariz’ plea can barely contain his excitement upon Liam’s return to the arena. As a prince, he should remain impartial, but has he ever? He doesn’t think so.

 _“The match we all have been waiting for!”_ The announcer goes quiet, letting the crowd’s cheer fill the stadium. _“The Rito’s prodigy hunter, Revali, vs. Prince Zayn’s knight and half Sheikah, Liam!”_

How much time has it been since last seeing a Rito? Zayn can’t recall. Still in his childhood days, for sure, since he remembers a curly Liam with him. The Rito rarely interact with those living on the ground. Their wings and feathers allow them survival in extreme altitudes, so visiting them is out of question, without careful planning.

They’re notorious for their aversion to new technologies, and even more for their dislike for the Sheikah.

“Show me a good fight, _Sheikah._ ”

Revali takes into the skies riding a gust that blows from under his feet. He intends to make it a long range fight, it seems. On the ground, Liam unsheathes his wooden sword and readies his shield.

Zayn holds his breath. This is his first time witnessing Liam in real combat. Sometimes he'll sneak out and peep at Liam’s training, but that doesn't compare to the flow of a real fight.

Revali’s boomerang cuts the air in an irregular pattern that Liam still parries. The wooden star returns to Revali's grip, the second attack following a nosedive at top speed. His sideways movements give the illusion of a flock of Revalis.

_“Here he is: the Rito’s best hunter! The skies are his playground!”_

Maybe, but Liam still parries every incoming attack, so Zayn can't tell what's so special about the guy. The clothes and feathers are nice—he'll give him that—but that's about it.

“You're not all that terrible, I must say.” Revali lands, circling Liam from a safe distance, his pace increasing every four, five steps. “Still no match for me, however.”

The number of Revali’s grows again, exponentially. This time they're less blurry and more solid looking; perfect copies down to his Mana, appearance, and weapon.

 _“And he's surrounded by a one-man army!”_ The narrator exclaims, dragging out the double ‘R'. _“Will Liam be able to escape it?!”_

Zayn clutches at the armrest of his seat. Of course, Liam is going to escape. They didn't spend 10 years apart for him to lose to a snotty-nosed— _beaked_ —prick and some cheap trick.

“ _Lee_ —”

“Behave like a prince. You must be impartial,” Queen Tashifa hisses at him.

“Your mum is correct,” King Yaser concurs. His actions contradict his words, because Zayn can clearly tell his tensed up knuckles clutching to his sceptre. “We are not to pick favourites.”

Says the man who’s welcomed Liam with tearful eyes. And maybe this is his dad and the king, but Zayn can't not think how brazen his dad is telling him this. It's a ‘do what I say, not what I do’, kind of world, he supposes.

_“What’s that?! Unbelievable; Liam has closed his eyes! Has he given up?!”_

Indeed, he has. But he also has his sword out, so Zayn doubts it. One of Liam’s qualities—and perhaps his biggest flaw—is his determination. Stubbornness, if you may. This could be the most hopeless scenario, and he’d still try finding a light. It's what he's done since birth, it's what makes him Liam.

The Revalis all lunge at once. Liam’s ears perk at the sound, and as he unleashes a slash of his sword, he spins a full circle. A dust cloud covers the arena, and when it settles, all Revalis are gone, except for one.

“Found you.” Liam grins, still blocking the sole remaining Revali’s blow with his shield over his head. “Had a feeling you’d come for me yourself.”

Before Revali can retreat, Liam vanishes and brings him down with an overhead kick. Then, he restrains Revali’s wing, confiscating the large boomerang.

_“And it's over! Winner: Liam of Hyrule!”_

King Yaser pumps a small first on the side, reason Queen Tashifa reprimands him with a single look. Zayn doesn't blame his dad. Seeing Liam’s bashful smile, as he waves at the crowd cheering on him, he knows this fight has served to earn Liam some much needed recognition and respect. It should be like this every day, and independent of Liam’s feats and capabilities, but for now Zayn will take it for what it is: Liam’s victory.

_How was it, my prince?_

Zayn smiles in the general direction Liam stands instead of replying.

_A bit flashy, to be honest... But still ace._

Liam’s offended snort is possibly the cutest noise in Zayn’s mind.

_That's called technique, Your Highness._

_Whatever. Won the next two, and I'll give you a reward later._

Zayn catches Liam’s eyes in this exact moment, and chuckles at Liam’s attempt at a wink. A _blink,_ more like.

_Better keep your word. I'll hold you to it._

_The only way you’ll still hold me these days, I reckon._

Okay, maybe teasing Liam still has its appeal.

#

The next match begins shortly after. Two spear-wielders this time: a short Zora boy of wine red scales, Phiam, and Elaf, one of Mubariz’ best knights. It’s a heated battle, but in the end, Phiam emerges victorious.

Urbosa, Liam, Phiam and the lanky boy that should have faced Daruk—Vaati—go to the next round.

Again, the fights are randomised, and after a brief interval, they resume the tournament. For the semi-finals, it’s Liam vs. Phiam, and Urbosa vs. Vaati.

The participants enter the arena. Urbosa’s leg has been healed, and according to her, she’s _“ready for a lot more.”_ Vaati shows himself indifferent to it, though that’s his exact attitude from his first match as well.

_“First round of the semifinals... Start!”_

Vaati closes the distance between him and Urbosa in a blink. Two daggers unleash four strikes, that Urbosa blocks, before he leaps backwards to dodge her swing. His fighting style remained secret till now, but it obviously focuses on speed. Speed, nimble body, and dual wielding favour it. Strike and run.

“Not bad!” Urbosa twirls her scimitar around her hand. “You have skill, but don't think I'll make it easy.”

Urbosa’s left foot goes in front of her, whilst her right arm and sword go behind. Her hips sway in cadence to a song only she seems to hear. She starts dancing around her blade, as if it's an extension of herself.

Vaati lunges a second time, only to find out both Urbosa’s defence and offence have become tighter and unpredictable. Urbosa twirls and presses forwards with a flurry of strikes.

 _“She's put him on the defensive! Vaati struggles to keep up with Urbosa’s movements!”_ the narrator rejoices! _“There goes one of his daggers! Lose the other one, and it's all over for the boy!”_

Both are remarkable warriors. Urbosa is expected, since she's handled Lisa’s rampage. Vaati’s case is more of a surprise; he holds his ground well against an experienced Gerudo warrior. If possible, Liam would like to face both. Too bad he can only fight one, and only if he can defeat that short Zora lad that has defeated Elaf.

_“Have Lady Urbosa’s movements slowed down?”_

Liam turns his focus to the match again, and it's the scenario the narrator had described — Urbosa moves slower, tumbling instead of twirling and shaking her hips. On one attack she loses her shield, on the next she loses her sword, collapsing defeated at Vaati’s feet.

The winner has been decided.

Liam, again, rushes to her aid. What could have happened? He gets absorbed in his thoughts for a moment, and next thing he knows, the match has flipped. He would find no fault, were Urbosa to lose fighting at her fullest, and the last moments surely haven't been that.

“Everything all right?” he asks her.

Urbosa nods, letting out a bitter laugh. “Second time today, huh, young _voe_? _Sarqso_.”

Her laugh does little to cover the frustration that her tight grip on her scimitar transpires. As someone in this very situation several times before, Liam sympathises with her. That's how he knows nothing he can say will help, so he says nothing else.

In fact, it's Urbosa that brings up the question he had in mind.

“You wonder how I lost.”

He turns to her with widened eyes, causing her to cackle. Genuinely _cackle_. Head thrown backwards and all.

He forces a small smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“Your face says it all.” She traces a V in the air over his eyebrows and brow. “Might want to work on that.”

His bluff shall remain subject for another talk, though. As Urbosa starts to describe her final moments in her match, a few knights come to scout her to the healers. Before they drag her though, she grabs his forearm.

“Be careful with that _voe_.”

Liam watches his fellows take Urbosa away, and then proceeds to prepare for his own match. ‘Prepare’ being a fancy word to ‘catching his equipment that Elaf throws his way.’

_“The match to decide our second finalist is here! Only one can win!”_

All of which sounds pretty obvious to Liam, but given the crowd’s reaction, he supposes that’s just a narrator’s duty. He won’t bother. Phiam isn’t an adversary he can defeat with divided attention.

“Before we start, I have a selfish request,” Phiam says, pointing his trident’s prongs downwards. “I ask of you to not hold back.”

Liam nods, twirling his sword. “Didn’t intend to.”

“You have my gratitude.” Phiam smiles briefly. “Same goes for me.”

_“Commence!”_

Phiam’s weapon more than makes up for his small reach due to his short limbs. By planting his trident in the ground, he dodges Liam’s attack and uses the momentum to counter— a stab with the dull end of his spear and a kick.

Liam reels back, digging his heels down. Although he dodges the first stab and kick, the follow-up, a rising kick, misses his chin for a hair breadth. He can’t help grinning when Phiam assumes a battle instance again.

“Come prepared,” the Zora warns.

From this moment, begins a ferocious exchange of blows. The dull clash of wood on wood only gives a sample of how loud the clatter of metal would be. Phiam’s control of his trident makes up for his lack of shield, and, at times, proves a stronger defence than Liam’s shield.

Head-on attacks won’t get either anywhere. It's time to switch tactics.

_I’ve only seen it twice... hope it works._ Liam focuses on his footwork, moving faster and faster, till he sees after images of himself around the arena. Revali’s going to hate him even more for this, but that’s a concern for later.

Would _a_ little more or less hostility even make a difference?

Liam presses on with his attack, only to have his sword trapped between the prongs of Phiam’s trident and the ground. He fails to respond timely, and as a result takes a drop-kick to his chest. Fortunately, he doesn’t let go of his shield, or this would be the end of the match.

“I can see through your attacks.” Phiam pulls out his trident, throwing Liam's sword upwards. The blade plants itself between Liam’s spread legs. “Surprise attacks, illusions— none of that will work on me.”

Pulling his sword out of the ground, Liam stands up. It’s time to think, he reckons. He’s read about Zoras in one of Zayn’s books before. He knows they’re unrivalled fighters in the water and can locate foes within an obscene radius. However, they’re not underwater, so he has no clue to work on. Unless...

Liam’s eyelids droop, till they’re finally closed. He puts his shield back on his back, as well as sheathes his sword. He then opens his eyes slowly, revealing silver irises.

_“What’s this? His eyes have changed! What does that mean?!”_

“I hope you’re prepared,” Liam warns, and isn’t much of a warning at all, as he suddenly swings his sword down with both hands.

Phiam twirls his trident in the same circular defence done many times before. This time, the weight of Liam’s strike pushes him back, eventually tearing his trident and knocking him back. On each side of him, a half of his trident lies, out of his grasp.

_“Phiam is unable to battle! Winner: Liam of Hyrule!”_

Sheathing his sword again, Liam walks over to a dizzy Phiam. He extends his hand, then hauls the lad up.

“Are you all right?” he asks. The technique he’s used is still under adjustment, and sometimes it’s hard to measure his strength. “Nothing broken, I assume?”

“You were holding back,” Phiam replies. He winces and groans, picking up the halves of his spear that he waves at Liam. “But if you weren’t, this would be me right now.”

Liam chuckles. “Sorry. I just didn’t want to hurt you—” he shrinks under Phiam’s reproachful look “—much, I guess?”

“You’re capable of protecting your prince— I’m at ease leaving him to you.”

Leaving Zayn to him? Liam hadn’t noticed before, but Phiam’s presence reads somewhat familiar to him. Plus, these cryptic words allude to him at least knowing Zayn. Liam trusts Zayn would have recognised a mate and warned him before their fight.

He frowns. “‘Leaving him to me’? Who—”

There’s no reply, as Phiam, too, is escorted to the healers.

#

_“The long awaited main event! The moment we have eagerly awaited is here!”_

The finals begin not much longer after Liam and Phiam’s match. Revali and the other participants all return to watch, their seats reserved closest to the arena.

_“We'll finally meet the winner, the warrior allowed to touch the Picori blade._

_Who—I ask who—will receive the highest honour in the kingdom?”_

Liam grabs his shield and unsheathes his sword. He nods back at Vaati, then waits. Waits for many things.

He waits for the narrator to calm down, for the crowd’s cheers to die out, for an epiphany on Urbosa’s words. He'd say he also waits for Vaati’s reasons to compete, because, so far, there's no fighting spirit coming off him. This is a fundamental difference from all Liam has fought so far.

Vaati reverses his grip on his daggers, keeping them parallel to his forearms and pointed outwards to his elbows.

Their wooden blades collide within a fraction of the start signal. Thinking too hard might give room to error, and so Liam chooses action. If he can't figure out Vaati’s fighting style, he'll just learn it in battle. From the little he's seen from the previous fight, he’s to expect speed.

_“They clash faster than we can blink! What a start for the young men!”_

The kick aimed at Vaati’s ankle misses all that's not air. Taking advantage of the momentum, Vaati spins over his own axis, and with his feet bounces off Liam’s shield in a somersault. Liam blinks at the staggering mid-air body control.

Maybe it's Daruk that got lucky their match didn't happen.

Still, Liam presses on. Barely dodging Vaati’s strikes, at first, and then placing a safe distance from his blades. The unpredictable grows known, and Liam prepares for a counter-attack.

“There!”

He lunges to his far right, after blocking Vaati’s daggers. An upward slash breaks through the crossed blades in defence. It’s his chance. He can win this match.

Vaati reels Liam in by his sword arm. “Drop it.”

 _What?_ Liam pushes himself away from Vaati’s grasp with a bash of his shield. He rotates his forearm a few times. Nothing broken. Good. Vaati, on the other hand, stares at him wide-eyed, as if he’s grown a second head.

“Drop it,” he repeats, and now Liam confirms he’s heard it right the first time.

Naturally, there’s no more willingness to comply than a moment ago. If he drops his weapons, he loses the battle. The same as forfeiting. Those are the rules, and both have been informed of much before the tournament even began.

“Hesitation will lead you to an early grave.”

Vaati stares down at his own stomach, from where a stained blade now runs through. He drops to his knees, clutching the wound. A second person stands behind him, swatting his blood off the blade with a flick of her arm. She plants it again on Vaati’s back, and dark flames consume his flesh and bones in a flash.

Liam tightens his grip on his sword, staring into soulless, red eyes. “Lisa... What have you done?”

The question is illogical, since he's watched it all. He's seen her stab Vaati. Just like he's seen her incinerate the body. There's a name for her actions, and it rests on the tip of his tongue, whether he chooses to believe his own eyes or not.

“Lisa!” he blusters, gritting his teeth as he clamps her between a wall and his shield. “What happened to you?!”

“I've seen the light,” she replies, her eyes going wide as she does so. The grin on her face is equally wide, showing all her bottom teeth. “Bowing to the Hylians will only keep us in the shadows. We're not their dogs.”

Liam lets go without meaning to. Amidst her lunacy, there's this deep resentment, a hatred that's unfitting of the sweet little girl he once knew. That little girl obsessed with bugs and mechanics that would bring him water after one of Impa’s intense training sessions. This one before him, with a manic glint to her eye and rabid words, isn't that girl.

“Time Shackles!”

Thick chains bind Lisa arms, their weight bringing her down to her knees. A shock arrow lodges itself into her chest, and she finally collapses onto it, face in the dirt.

“Alef...” Liam mumbles, watching his fellow knight roll her over with a kick, and press a knee to her stomach to pluck the arrow from her flesh.

“Why so complacent to a rebel? A murderer?” Alef shouts. “Would this be your acquaintance?”—his expression becomes sombre—“A _friend_?”

No. That's not it. He's got it all wrong. Liam glances around him to find more knights frowning and glaring at him. Right now, this Lisa—this _stranger_ —is the farthest thing from an ally, least of all a friend. There’s no reason for all these spears and arrows aimed at him.

_“He’s with her! That filthy mongrel!”_

_“Throw him in a cage and let ‘im rot!”_

_“I knew the Sheikah would bring trouble for us!”_

Liam drops his sword and shield, hands high above his head. If they perceive him as a threat, they’ll shoot and impale him without a thought. He has to work on regaining their trust till he can explain himself.

“I’m not—”

Thunder roars as if the skies crashed onto land. Bolts of navy lightning rain down, over the stage. The brightness blinds even Sheikah eyes, and it takes furious blinking for Liam to keep his eyes open.

The first thing to notice is the absolute silence around him. There’s no cheering, panicked screams, nor accusations hurled his way. There’s only the sound of an empty cave where a bustling kingdom gathered in celebration should be.

Instead, Liam finds himself surrounded by a collection of stone figures.

“As expected, you turn on each other, for your loyalties are flimsier than the pages of an aged book.”

The source of the voice is a red-eyed bloke of long lilac hair, and a paler shade for skin tone. He dresses in purple tunic and hood, and in his right hand he holds a sceptre rather familiar to Liam and any Hylian.

“The smallest doubt cast over them has them baring their fangs at you,” the boy says in a bored tone, holding the sceptre’s gem against the light. “Can you see them as fellows, when all they do is see you as a stranger? Except for these two, I suppose.”

Liam’s guts twist in knots. Behind Vaati, a tar-black shadow binds Zayn and King Yaser by their limbs and neck. They writhe for freedom, but the struggle only further entangles them.

“My plan has already succeeded.” Vaati snaps his fingers, and then the shadow chucks bodies at the arena. Withered like autumn leaves, Mubariz, Zareef and a few other knights lie at Liam’s feet. “I’ll let you keep those as to repay you for having mercy on my beloved Lisa.”

Liam stumbles towards Mubariz’ body. There are gashes everywhere and the limbs stick out at unnatural angles. The others are in a similar state, soaked in a large cerulean pool. He can still hear their heartbeats, too faint to perceive, were he not specifically looking for them.

“How can you talk about mercy?!” Liam stomps at the edge of his shield, flipping it upwards into his grip, then snatches his sword. “Let them go. _Now_.”

Vaati shakes his head. “I’m afraid I can’t. Though, I suppose, you can keep the defective one.”

The shadow reshapes as a dome around Vaati, deflecting the energy wave from Liam’s attack. Liam goes for a second strike, shrouded in the dust of the explosion. His blade slices through, and for a moment he rejoices in his success, but then reality mugs him of his smile.

“Lisa... no…” He shakes his head. “I didn’t—”

Liam staggers back, his sword rattling against the stone floor. He watches her smile, before collapsing at his feet, swimming in a pool of crimson.

“I have changed my mind,” Vaati says. His shadow impales Lisa’s corpse, then petrifies her from the puncture outwards. At the same time, Zayn’s muffled screams halt and his skin becomes ashy and hardened. “You can keep both of them.”

As darkness engulfs Vaati and King Yaser, Liam stumbles forwards, clutching at his chest. His lungs burn. _Breathing_ burns. He reaches out to Zayn’s face, but it seems to only get farther away, the closer he gets to it.

His hands don’t obey. His fingers spasm in different rhythms, and not even a grip on his pulse keeps them from moving on their own. He wills— _begs_ —them to stop, but they refuse to comply. Don’t even hear his pleas, in the first place, rather.

“Zed,” he croaks, finally reaching Zayn’s stony form. His knees give out under the sudden weight to take hold of his shoulders, and he collapses on all fours. “Not you, too...”

#

No light or sound reaches Zayn here. Cold water surrounds him in this deep, deep place. Where is this? He can’t remember how he got here. His memories are a scattered puzzle with no seemingly connection between the parts. Where he is, it doesn’t matter; he has to leave.

He swims for an unknown amount of time. No matter which direction he takes, nor how far he goes, it never changes around him. Above, below, before, behind, left, right— no matter the direction, it’s all water. Cold and endless, chipping away at his strength.

Eyelids and arms grow heavy over time. He wants to leave, sure, but numbness slowly spreads in his body, and he can’t remain awake for long. Or maybe he can just take a quick kip and wake up refreshed, ready to find the way out.

 _What’s this light?_ Zayn forces his eyes open and finds a dim light in the distance. It’s hard to say how distant, but it’s more than a couple of strokes away. His arms and legs may not reach it.

But then, the light shines brighter. Beyond it, unintelligible, mumbled words beckon him.

 _Swim._ The single-word command on his mind pushes Zayn to paddle. It's the last of his strength, and he can only hope it'll get him there. If he fails, there won't be another chance at it.

“...En... Zen...”

Zayn paddles faster. Each stroke grows heavier the previous one, the weight of his own limbs dragging him down. By now, each of them weighs more than his entire body. It’s a matter of time till he reaches the source of the light, or gets torn apart by its own weight.

_“Zayn! Zayn!”_

Another hand awaits Zayn’s on the surface. He’s no longer immersed in water. Air replaces it in his lungs, burning his throat and nostrils. He pants and blinks. There’s a moment before he recognises his surroundings, or the puffy eyes staring at him.

“ _Leeyum?_ ” he whispers. “Wha’? Where are we—”

Chapped lips soothe any remaining burning in Zayn. It’s sudden, even a little rough in their initial clash. It’s the tenderness that follows that pulls Zayn into it. The large hands to frame his face, the lingering of their lips moulded together, like pieces that finally fall into place. His own hand reaches for the nape of Liam’s neck, rubbing it assuringly.

“I thought I lost you!” Liam breathes out at the end of their kiss, resting their foreheads together. “I thought—” he hiccups “—you were gone!”

“Can’t get rid of me tha’ easily, can ya?” Zayn brings his hand a little higher, skimming the buzzed hair. “You’re crying— wha’ happened?”

The question triggers a flight response in Liam, and he jerks away as if burnt. He touches his lips in horror, and his eyes widen like plates when staring at Zayn’s lips.

“I didn’t—” He drops to both knees, head bowed down. “Forgive me for my uncouth behaviour, Your Highness!”

“Leeyum, wha’ you’re—”

“Forgive me for failing to protect them!” Liam shouts.

The last moments before emerging from water come back to Zayn at once. He glances at the thrones to his left; both empty. He then surveys around him, finding several statues of familiar faces. Too realistic to have been made with conventional sculpting. He remembers screams, the cracking of bones snapping, and Mubariz and the others fallen at his feet.

It’s not before he sees the one in the likeness of his mother that he’s sure it hasn’t been a dream.

“Dad! Where’s dad?” he asks, shaking Liam by the shoulders. It only earns him a silent answer and an averted gaze. “No... He’s not—”

“That lad took him alive.”

The fact that Liam’s hands shoot for Zayn’s shows they've followed the same conclusion. And Liam has hopeful news now, but, at this pace, it won't keep up for long. Thus, Zayn makes a decision.

“I'm bringing Dad back.”

Liam blinks. He's not calling Zayn insane or laughing, which is as good as any sign. Vaati’s words still sting fresh to add Liam’s scepticism to it.

“You know where they are?” Liam asks.

Zayn shakes his head. Vaati’s magic has petrified everyone in this stadium. Hoping to confront it with a basic search spell would be daft. There's also everyone they must turn back, and only King Yaser—besides Vaati, though that one lacks reason to do so—might be able to.

“I know where we can start,” he replies instead. Steam gathers in his hand, and a replica of the castle, appears with a frozen dot in the deepest levels. “Here. That door he always told us to never go through.”

The room in question is where his dad’s sceptre rests till the next ceremony. That's all Zayn knows. Since Vaati has taken the sceptre with him, it's only natural to start his search there.

Granted, this the only idea Zayn has. Maybe there's some advanced spell to track, or something similar. By now, he's holding on to hope.

“ _We're_ going,” Liam corrects. Again, his hand cradles Zayn’s face, and his eyes are a darker shade of red, more crimson-like. “I'm not letting you go anywhere alone again. Not even if it's orders from the Prince.”

There's more to discuss than they have available time to cover. There's all the horrible things the citizens yelled at Liam, as well as the weapons Alef and the others pointed at him. Vaati’s words, too, Zayn supposes, even if those are a new, separate problem altogether.

There's only one thing to do.

Zayn plants both knees down.“I need your help, _Leeyum_.”

#

The Forbidden Room, as they've dubbed it their childhood days, looks more forbidden after nearly two decades. The stone owl watches them with its stoic expression, waiting for confirmation of their access.

“To crumbles and dust we must return.” Zayn recites. He prickles his thumb with a hair pin, then squeezes a drop of blood. “Take my blood and my oath, and open the way.”

The statue’s eyes flash upon tasting Zayn’s blood. The four pillars woven over the door retract. Inside, a dark room coldly welcomes them.

“Let's go,” he tells Liam.

Rows of torches light up along the wall. There's nothing to be seen here besides a small fountain at the centre. The water in it doesn't flow, so perhaps a pond would be more accurate. It does, however, react when Zayn holds his hand over it, stirring and reaching for his palm.

“It looks like that tickling spell.” Liam also holds a hand over it, but the mysterious water reacts far more violently, shooting up like spikes. “Well, except for the impaling part,” he adds, checking his hand for any wounds.

Zayn chuckles. “Dad's magic, remember?”

The mention of King Yaser readily takes away his smile. He hasn't forgotten their reason to be here, of course. It's just— it reminds him of their younger days, exploring Hyrule and the castle together. How would he give anything to experience that again. And now that the chance is here, he can't enjoy it under the circumstances that have allowed it.

A comfortable weight falls on Zayn's shoulders, and a gentle grip squeezes his arm.

“We're going to save him.” Liam kisses his temple, then smiles at him. “I promise.”

Whether these are words Liam can uphold, that's another story. For now, his concern and reassurance are more than enough. It's not about Zayn alone, either. He's not the only one affected by today's happenings, and undoubtedly he blames himself for failing to prevent it.

“You smell water, too?”

Zayn closes his eyes and sniffs the humid air. There's dust, things stored for too long, but no water as far as he's concerned. Granted, Liam’s senses lose to no one’s, so he's better off trusting them.

He shakes his head. “This water?”

Liam, too, shakes his head. “Below. Help me move this.”

What isn't as trivial as it would seem. Whenever Zayn tries to push it, water tentacles snare his wrists and restrain him. When it comes to Liam, it straight-up tries to gauge his eyes out. Maybe it needs another spell, because the same incantation for the door won’t do. Or even a key.

“And if we throw you in?”

Zayn cocks an eyebrow.

“I mean, it’s not trying to murder you,” Liam elaborates. To make a point, he holds his hand over the pound, and retreats before a water spike bores a hole through his forearm. “Better than if I try that.”

As out of options as they are, might as well.

At first, nothing really happens. The water ripples around Zayn. A little more gelatinous than regular water, but that’s it. Nothing else. He already has a foot on the way out, when Liam starts humming a song familiar to both. Zayn joins in, whistling a melody almost forgotten in his mind.

As if for bidding, the water rises, a throne reshaped under Zayn. The otherwise unmoving pond slides aside to reveal long staircases deeper underground. Zayn blinks.

“How did you kn—”

“I didn’t.” Liam shrugs. “But I’m glad it worked?”

_Oh well._

#

Barren water pools by their ankles at the bottom-most level. The splashing at their feet mixes with the squeaking over their heads. Keese fly around at the briefest interaction with the flame Zayn provides. Besides rats and bats, snakes also infest the seemingly maze of rooms.

In their wake rat tails, Keese eyes and wings galore. A single slash or basic flame spell takes care of these lesser monsters. The Ropes are slightly more troubling with their fast rate regeneration: it's necessary to behead and then destroy the snakes’ heads.

“I don't see any exits.” Liam studies the ceiling with bright, silver eyes. “Think it's the last one?”

To Zayn, it’s simply odd. Water doesn't flow here, and there's not a single Keese flying. He'd expect the last room to house hordes of them. S _ome,_ even, but surely not _none_. _Are the monsters avoiding the strong Mana in here?_

“ _Leeyum!_ ” He waves Liam in. “Come see this.”

 _“This”_ in question is a set of ancient armour disassembled on a small altar. Many markings cover it, further contributing to the idea of it being used in battle before.

Liam frowns. “We can find your dad... with this? Are you sure?”

“It's our best clue.”

Or would be. The whole thing is too large to fit Zayn. There’s strong Mana in it, yes. This is the power he’s sensed since setting foot in this dungeon. Maybe it can amplify his powers? He’s read about catalysers before, and if he has to wear it to cast a large scale spell...

“Help me put it on,” he tells Liam, picking up the horned helmet. “We're—”

Liam leaps forward in time to shield Zayn's head. The punch still sends him flying, crashing into the wall across the room. Torches on the wall light up, one by one.

“Leeyum!” Zayn teleports to Liam's side’. He can't not notice the crimson on his hands when helping Liam up. “You're bleeding!”

“Worry later, babe.” Liam winces. “It probably wants more blood than just this.”

The helmet in Zayn's grip floats towards the altar. As do the other parts or the armour, combined with the gauntlet closed in a fist. Once the helmet joins the torso, a golden orb shines inside, resembling a single eye.

_With enough experience, you can even give life to things._

_The larger the target, the more complex the instructions you can assign to it._

“Animation magic,” Zayn whispers to himself, recalling one of Ifra’s teachings. He draws his wand, watching the empty armour summon a claymore as tall as itself from the ground. “That... can use magic, it seems.”

“ _Everybody_ , but me.” Liam groans, plucking a large splinter of his shattered wooden shield from his arm. “ _Now_ it’s personal.”

Whilst Liam distracts the phantom warrior in with flukes, and Zayn shoots a large into its helmet. The explosion beheads it, causing the body to collapse. For a long minute the battle is finished, but only till the helmet and limbs roll back to the main body.

The phantom knight’s stone claymore slams down on Liam’s direction. It’s chosen its opponent already. This should at least give Zayn some time to change plans; that flimsy wooden sword of Liam’s won’t last before the weight of stone.

What now? Fire is always an option. Straight up blow the armour to debris. The only issue is that it hasn't worked, and too much Mana might explode the entire room. Extinguishing oxygen is another concern. Maybe he should try freezing it? It’d be easier in the rooms with water, though. Here he only has—

Zayn stares at the scarlet wand in his hands. _Please, let it work!_

He flicks his wand from side to side, as if conducting an orchestra. It’s no band or instruments that he hopes to control, but instead the small swishes his own hand performs. Every swing that causes the air to move, if just a little.

What starts with an almost imperceptible breeze, becomes proper gusts, that in numbers light a spark through friction. Larger and larger, the faster Zayn waves his wand.

_Fall back!_

Liam obliges, and then lightning sizzles across the room. The phantom knight spasms, then collapses apart on the floor. This time, it stays down.

“Lightning?” Liam pokes the lifeless gauntlet with his sword. Yeah, still not moving. “How?”

“Wind magic,” he replies, letting a breath out. “But harder.”

“Proof you're taking it seriously, I suppose.”

Zayn narrows his eyes. “ _You_ blackmailed me.”

“Impa calls it ‘learning reinforcement’, actually,” he chirps. “If you don’t want sleepovers, just tell me.”

Any words leave Zayn’s mouth in an ‘oof’ when a punch to the stomach hurls him into the wall. Liam intercepts him, but without room to halt their trajectory, both crash into stone bricks.

Metal clatters across the floor. The charred armour reassembles in the air, its golden eye lighting up again.

Every nerve in Zayn's torso has flared. Liam has taken the brunt of the impact, and is surely in worse shape. And it's the worst scenario: their wounds add up, whilst the empty armour recovers time and time again. The longer this fight lasts, the closer they get to defeat.

“ _Leeyum?_ Can you still move?”

Liam hums, loosening his grip on Zayn's waist. “A few broken ribs, but—” he winces “—fine, otherwise.”

 _B_ eing in one piece is fine. This isn’t. Given the circumstances, Zayn supposes he'll take what he can get, and that’s a few broken ribs. A few bones he can heal later. Their priority is dispatching that thing before there's something he _can't_ heal.

_I’m open to suggestions. If you have any ideas, now is a good moment to hear them._

_That worked a bit. Can you do it again? Stronger?_

Without years of training, and tapping on this _mythical_ potential everyone says he has? No, Zayn fears.

_What if I do it?_

An accurate fireball blows its helmet away, momentarily disorienting it. This should buy them some time. Zayn then teleports them to the previous room to regroup.

Liam presents a half-snapped wooden blade. “Charge this up. Like a Shock Arrow.”

A brilliant plan, really, if not for a minor detail: the required control over wind magic it requires. Even if it were water, weapon enchanting has never been Zayn’s forte. It demands twice as much control than his usual spells. It’s not just him controlling the Mana, but adjusting it to follow external control, in this case, Liam’s. And his low compatibility with Farore magic hardly aids his cause.

“ _Leeyum—_ ”

“It’s all right.” Liam squeezes Zayn's hand. “You can do it, I know.”

Only that Zayn doesn’t know that. Words of protest come to his mouth, though all die at the tip of his tongue. This is not a good idea. A ridiculous idea based on an unfounded assumption. Pure and outrageous optimism, and—dare he says—foolishness. Plus a fair amount of disregard, given that Liam dashes back into the room before he can even reply.

Zayn stumbles into a sprint, following Liam.

“If you die, I'll become a necromancer to bring you back and _paste_ you!”

Liam laughs, a stub of sword held high above his head. “Sounds more complicated than this, though.”

Zayn crosses his wand with Liam's swords, and closes his eyes. He focuses his mind on what he can feel and hear. The air in the room. The clatter of the armour marching towards them. Liam's presence by his side. The dread of screwing all this up.

 _Imagine the blade. Craft the blade._ He pictures it in his mind, just how it used to be in its complete form. Lightning might course through the wet wood, electrocuting Liam. So he pictures something else. Something effective, but that won't harm indiscriminately. _Let Leeyum be safe._

Zayn opens his eyes in time to catch the stone drill sword home in on him. Shit. He doesn't have enough things to summon a shield or dodge it—

_Thud._

The stone sword drops into two halves.

“Told you you could do it’” Liam says, twirling a sword bright as the sun itself. His eyes become silver again. “We’re ending this, big guy.”

The gauntlets and greaves drop severed from the main body. The Phantom Knight loses ground and tumbles. It still attempts to reconnect its limbs, but Liam X slashes its torso, melting through iron as if paper instead. The helmet falls last, also split in half.

Liam's blade becomes a half again, and his eyes return to scarlet, as he stumbles backwards.

“See? It worked,” he beams at Zayn, now under his arm supporting him.

“Tha’ was dumb luck, and we're _not_ doing it again,” Zayn huffs back. Victory may taste sweet, but he's also aware of how horribly wrong it all could have gone. “Let's heal you up, you doughnut.”

Liam lifts his tunic, his wounds coming into view. A bluish mark spreads across his side, a little under his armpit. He even winces when Zayn touches it, though it may be the temperature difference between them. Liam's skin is always so warm and welcoming, whereas Zayn's fingertips are still dipped in dread and apprehension from the fight.

“Your hands are so soft.”

 _Ignore him._ Zayn averts his gaze. Focusing on Liam's flesh under his fingertips, he lets a blue glow flow into it in waves, like a calm ocean.

“ _Shabnam-e-rooh_ ,” he chants.

“You really improved.” Liam says, rowing his shoulder. His calloused hands sandwich Zayn’s, a small smile playing on his lips. “You're still improving.”

The inherent danger of Liam's touch will get Zayn one day. One instant he succeeds at ignoring Liam, the other he's lost in pools of ruby. He's sure Liam says something else, but all he can hear is this static noise—

_“Child of Hylia, what is this that you seek?”_

—and focus on how Liam's lips speak completely different from the words he heard.

Zayn leaps to his feet, and so does an alert Liam. Where the torn armour lies, thin dust swirls in the air, shaping up the figure of a long-bearded man. A man they don't know, but that bears uncanny resemblance to King Yaser.

“I'm looking for my dad,” he replies, approaching the dust figure slowly. It may sound too vague or trivial, so he adds, “An enemy of Hyrule stole the King's sceptre. And some other serious stuff.”

The dust man pauses. Nothing about him indicates threat, but just in case, Liam keeps his half sword out.

_“Child of Hylia, the prophecy has come true.”_

A good start as any, but nowhere near enough to answer Zayn's question.

_“Finding your progenitor is of essence, though only that cannot save this land.”_

Which begs another question, though, fortunately, the dust man answers by showing them by becoming a small puppet theatre of sand.

#

The stars foresee the birth of an enemy to the kingdom. They seek nothing besides destruction, found in the revival of their God, the very embodiment of it. This God of death and void has come to be known as Ganondorf.

Born as a male Gerudo, as foreseen every 500 years, Ganondorf sought absolute power. The power to change fate and mould reality to his bidding. Believing in his divine right to rule his people, he confronted Hyrule’s Royal family for not using the goddesses’ power to make reality good for all, instead of simply guarding such magnificent power.

The then current king tried to reason about the dangers of relying solely on divine providence to live, as well as the misuse of great power. The answer didn't seem to convince Ganondorf, but still he left without further trouble. That wouldn't be his admittance of defeat, and a far sinister plan had started brewing in his mind.

One day, Hyrule came under attack by a horde of monsters. Ghouls, ghosts, Moblins, and dragons. Monsters notorious for basic intelligence acted as a united front, wreaking havoc in Kakariko Village. Rare monsters also joined the attack, including the fire-breathing lizard beast, King Dodongo and the man-eating flower, Deku Baba.

Hyrule's knights fought bravely. Despite that, their skill faltered before the sheer number of foes to ravage the kingdom. The current King saw himself forced to join battle, and using a large-scale spell, incinerated every foe in holy light. The worst had been avoided.

Unfortunately, that played right into Ganondorf’s plan: with the Hyrule King weakened of his magic and the commotion throughout the kingdom, the self-proclaimed Gerudo King infiltrated the castle. Unknown at that time, his clutches had reached into the greedy hearts of some Hylians. His goal was to infiltrate the gate to the Sacred Realm, resting place to the Triforce.

Lore says only the worthy can yield the Triforce. Yet, Ganon and his corrupted heart soon became acquainted with the divine power. First, he got rid of the very ones that helped him. Then, wielding the powers of the goddesses himself, unleashed catastrophe and demons over Hyrule and Termina.

The King of Hyrule called for the alliance formed with the tribes across Termina to stop Ganondorf’s schemes. Together with another six other beings of considerable magic, his daughter managed to lure the Gerudo King into a trap to defeat the formidable foe.

However, Ganondorf’s might proved unsurpassable, and the Hylian King met defeat. Even so, the Hylian refused to bow to Ganondorf's strength and worship him. Enraged and blind by his thirst for destruction, Ganondorf cast away his self, becoming a mindless, bloodthirsty beast of even greater power— _Ganon._ This also became his demise, as the princess’ ultimate sacrifice retrieved two of three pieces that make up the Triforce, she sealed the great evil away.

Peace returned to the continent, and the descendants of the King of Hyrule (as well as his allies’) became known as the seven sages.

The seed of Ganon, however, had already been planted and evil would be born anew again. In one of the King's dreams, Ganon prophesied: one day he would return to reclaim his throne and have revenge on the sons and daughters of his imprisoners. A counter prophecy rose a year later, from none but the King's blind mother.

_“As Ganon rises again, four heroes shall emerge from the shadows._

_United, they take up the sacred blade and banish evil for good.”_

#

Zayn turns to Liam, his right eye twitching. Sounds like a great story, but... _four_ heroes? They're barely two! And what’s this with the hero talk? How are they to enter this other realm? Isn't the entrance sealed so the God of destruction can't flee?

There are more questions than answers, and not much to make of it. Can magic go senile? He asks for a friend, really.

_“Child of my blood, find the keys to the bane of evil. Gather the keys and march on.”_

The silky dust becomes a replica of Termina. Rings of sand circle Zayn, converging on his right hand in the form of a metallic wand with a small rose on it.

_“Visit the home of each power. Overcome their ordeals, and return peace to our beloved land.”_

The ghost of his ancestor crumbles down, eventually returning to ordinary sand. Zayn's knees buckle, and if not for Liam's support, he'd have kissed the floor.

“Tell me you’ve heard and seen all tha’. _Please_.”

Liam nods. “At worst, we _both_ have gone barmy.”

Zayn snorts, though even this proves too much effort. “Cheers, babe.”

The floor disappears from under Zayn's feet, and his right hand finds home in a broad chest. He looks up at Liam, blinking hazily, to find a serious face staring ahead.

“We need a bath.” Liam readjusts his grip on Zayn. “I'm taking you back.”

The extent of their exhaustion, as well as the duration of their expedition, comes to light when surfacing again. The sun has long hid, moonlight and stars replacing it. Without Ifra or any other skilled mage to light up the torches, every corner of the castle is shadows and silence. Not that it makes any difference for Liam.

“Sometimes I forget about your cat eyes,” Zayn says, nodding in thanks when standing on the floor of his room. He still doesn't let go of Liam's arm, lest his knees give out. “That's pretty nifty.”

There’s no one monitoring the heating system, so a large fireball will do. Then, they both strip down and slip into warm water.

“Oi! Zed—”

“We're alone. There's nobody in this bloody kingdom,” he retorts, and his tone is harsher than intended. Thanks to exhaustion and still processing today’s events. “I just need company... if it doesn't bother you.”

Large hands draw Zayn into the familiar comfort of a hairy chest. He falls back, closes his eyes, and smiles when muscular arms surround him. There's also a soft kiss to his temple before a bearded chin perches itself on his head.

“You're never a bother. _Never_ ,” Liam reassures him with a second peck to his face. “You should know that.”

There's a hint of hidden meaning in Liam's words that Zayn decides to ignore. He's too exhausted to argue. _They're_ too exhausted to argue. Flashes of the past hours replay in his mind like a fast forwarded vision, the quick transitions knotting his stomach up.

“I'm here with you,” a soft whisper reminds him.

Zayn cups the hands on his stomach, surprised to find fingers weave together with his. His free hand reaches over his shoulder, cradling a bearded cheek. This is safety. His predicament remains, but his shoulders no longer weigh down as if trying to crush him. Nothing has changed.

Yet, it’s not the same, either.

They soak for the longest time, leaving only to eat in Liam's room. The idea had crossed Zayn's mind, he must admit. To have Liam suggest it, though, makes it infinitely better. Liam’s bed is also smaller, so, in the end, they have no option besides sleeping tangled in each other.

“I'm surprised you offered it.” Zayn pulls the covers over his face, inhaling Liam's scent. It never fails to soothe him. “Wha’ happened to ‘I don't think it's appropriate’?”

“I’m more worried about you,” Liam replies, matter-of-factly. He slips under the covers, forcing Zayn to budge over. Or as much as his small bed allows, given that they slot their bodies together to not roll off the edge. “And I say it because it _is_ — what when you’re married? I don’t suppose your queen will like it.”

Zayn grunts. These talks regarding marriage make his skin itch from the inside. If all that a wed life can offer him is restrictions and less of Liam, then he doesn’t need it, doesn’t _want_ it. He’s lived a ‘Liamless’ life for a decade already.

To go back to that life, after these past few months, sounds like a tasteless prank.

“I’ll enlarge the bed,” he says seriously, wiggling back onto Liam. “Or we can alternate and I’ll share a bed with her once a week.”

Liam snorts. Despite it, his arm drapes over Zayn’s waist, rooting them in spooning positions.

“Are you married to me, or to _her_?”

Zayn fingers automatically seek the ring on his necklace. “I’ve married you before her, so...”

Conversation derails fast into ridiculous scenarios, far too ludicrous for anyone sane. Zayn knows exactly what Liam is doing, and knows that Liam knows it, too. So, when sniffles start making up over half of Zayn's speech, he finds himself flipped around and welcomed into a warm, bare chest.

The tears roll down and refuse to stop. What has been today, really? When he pauses to reflect on it... Nothing makes a lick of sense, outside of Liam's warmth. His people, his family and friends, his father— all gone. His best chance at an answer is to take advice from enchanted sand in the likelihood of some ancestor, and to fight an evil God.

Some day it's been.

“Let it out,” Liam tells him, hand rubbing circles on his back and soft kisses on his hair. “Let it all out, and get some rest.”

#

In the morning, Zayn awaits for Liam to stir awake. He's had some sleep—mostly exhaustion overpowering him—but Liam has kept vigil over him, and needs some rest. He doesn't mind being alone with his thoughts for a little while, either. In fact, this is an opportunity to behold Liam's asleep face. Down to the parted plump lips and trickle of drool on his chin.

He traces light fingertips over Liam's birthmark. If he focuses, it takes the shape of a heart. A brave heart that's always ready to help, and has done so too many times for Zayn to count.

Sometimes, it makes Zayn wonder: is it for his sake, or for the prince’s? As kids, the answer would come easy. Kids don't worry about status and other things. Back in the day, they were Zayn and Liam, inseparable best mates. Husbands, too, as the small ring dangling off his neck reminds him. Back then, they believed that people get married to stay together forever. It only seemed natural to marry your best mate.

Liam lets out a small grunt, snuggling further into his pillow. Zayn can't not smile at how he pulls their bodies together, as if reacting to their memories.

The smile fades, replaced by a slight panic from realisation of what pokes his stomach. He glances down, and swallows hard at the tent in Liam's undergarments. Swallow harder when it throbs twice, as if acknowledging his gaze.

This is another aspect in their dynamics changed with coming of age, too. Honestly, Zayn still remembers the first time they woke up with pinched tents. They laughed it off and ‘sword played’. No awkwardness, no apologies. Unlike their first time bathing together again, where Liam avoided him for weeks after an accident.

“You doughnut,” he scolds in a whisper, mock glaring at Liam. The timing for Liam's pout makes it almost seem intentional. “I don't mind any of tha’ with you.”

Now, with both adults, there’s this... _shadow_ over their relationship. It's hard to tell Liam's needs and wants from duty. And the thought of Liam going with the motion, instead of making choices himself, leaves Zayn’s mouth sour.

“I slept a bit.”

The sleepy words and hoarse voice catch Zayn's attention. Scarlet eyes stare at him through droopy eyelids, accompanied by a lazy smile.

“Morning, _Leeyum_.”

“Morning.”

Liam's delayed reaction correlates to sleep grogginess, Zayn supposes. Because, the moment Liam notices they’re _poking_ each other's stomach, he tries to roll off the bed. Probably would succeed, if not for Zayn’s hold on his wrist.

“I wanna touch you,” Zayn says flatly. To leave no room for other interpretations, he glances down between them. “Like tha’ time we compared.”

“Your High—”

Zayn clamps Liam's mouth. “Right now, my kingdom is gone. I'm just Zayn. What’ would you wan’ to do to Zayn?”

To Zayn's surprise, rough fingers slide down his chest, and burrow their way into his underpants. He whimpers at the touch, but smiles when Liam throbs in response against him.

“How many years has it been?” Zayn questions, not aimed at any of them, really. His own hand wanders over the hair on Liam's chest and stomach, also requesting access into Liam's pants.

They scrutinise each other's faces, stroking slowly. Time has changed girth and length, but the general sensation remains the same. The friction their hands provide add to the contact of their naked thighs, and at some point they're thrusting into each other's hands, breathing each other's air.

It builds and builds a warmth into their loins, and finally spills over their fingers. Two more thrusts finish it, along with the kiss Zayn initiates, unceremoniously slipping his tongue past Liam's lips. They kiss tenderly in the afterglow, gently fondling each other.

Liam plops down on his back, assessing the mess in his pants. A meek smile plays on his lips, and his laboured breathing makes it hard to sustain a laugh.

“That's a lot of— “

“—tension, I know,” Zayn supplies, a grin stretched from ear to ear. He rolls over, so he's now on top of Liam, equally sticky and limp. It doesn’t stop him from humping out his high. “We needed this.”

“And my pants need cleaning.”

“That's what magic is for.”’

Liam arches an eyebrow. “Magic I can't use?”

Zayn gets his lips to ghost on Liam's. “That's why I have my wand.”

Liam glances downwards. “Well, it’s just done the opposite.”

“Oh Goddess!” Zayn pinches one of Liam's nipples, joining Liam in his laughter. “I didn't mean it like tha’!”

On one hand, Liam’s carefree act is a good sign. He also doesn't freak out after their little play session, which is also positive. One less weight on Zayn's shoulders in this journey. Because he's decided, already.

“I'm going, Li.” He nibbles his bottom lip. “Try to find dad, I mean.”

Liam nods. No questions asked. “I don't wanna lose you again.”

Understandable. Zayn guesses he has to consult with Liam. Right now, they are the entire Hyrule. He can't just expect a loved one to let him go through an errand left by a sand ghost.

“I know you don't wan’ me to go—”

A forefinger seals Zayn's lips.

“I'm coming with you,” Liam states. “I failed to protect you once; I'm not letting it happen again.” The finger on Zayn’s lips still prevents any words from getting out. “As your best mate,” he adds.

“Babe...” Zayn trails off, upon finally freeing himself. He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. “They're still messy...”

Liam presses his digits together, attesting to a certain stickiness to them. A snort escapes his lips almost as readily as he sucks it in to force his face straight.

“Oopsie.”

Zayn narrows his eyes. “Don't ‘oopsie’ me!”

“I mean, we already had that weird potion earlier, so...”

Their naked chase leads them to Zayn's chambers. The day cannot begin till they're fed, clean, and stocked up.

#

Of the three temples to visit, the Forest Temple is their first stop. The Kokiri Forest stays a short trip from the Deku Castle, which Zayn has visited before. That's also a good opportunity to find out how Vaati’s plan has impacted the other kingdoms— his ancestor did mention sages of different tribes.

Along the path, they can't not notice the restlessness in the creatures. Right outside Hyrule’s gates they run into an armed pack of Bokoblin. Nothing to blink at, since they're known for assaulting travellers with rustic clubs, but an arrow that Liam deflects is novelty.

Among the pack they also notice a new variation: a silver Bokoblin. This apparently serves as the group’s leaders, and displays even more aggressiveness than the average goblin. On defeat, part of its remains occasionally crystallise as precious stones.

“It's really a diamond,” Zayn says, the glow on his hand holding the stone fading. “That's the first time I hear about this.”

Liam sheathes his new sword on his back. “Keep it. We never know when it'll be useful.”

Zayn stares at the goblin remnants on the ground. They're mostly fangs, hearts and horns, but also occasional gems. Bokoblins themselves use it on their clubs, and now bows and shields. Knowing the equivalent would be a wand of his baby teeth chills Zayn’s bones.

He cocks an eyebrow. “You serious?”

“Spoils from battle.” Liam pulls on the drawstring of his large bag. “And we can ask Impa to find someone to analyse them.”

As Liam mounts Epona again, something becomes clear to Zayn: Liam has changed. Not in a bad way, not that he hasn't noticed it, but Liam acts more like a soldier. More like Mubariz and the others.

The Deku Palace is within sight before half the morning has passed. At first glance, nothing abnormal about the kingdom. Only when Zayn requests an audience with the Deku Queen that he finds something wrong.

“The Queen isn't seeing any visitors for the time being.”

“Inform her it's Prince Zayn of Hyrule, and it's of unprecedented urgency,” he says, throwing Liam a side glance. He also shows the guards the royal crest on his pin. “I'm sure she'll make an exception.”

The second guard step forwards, even less inclined to talk than his companion. Despite their short stature—half Liam’s height—they point their spears at Zayn.

“Your Majesty isn't seeing _anyone_ ,” the second guard snarls. “Please, refrain from unreasonable requests.”

Zayn extends his arm to bar Liam from a step forward. Altercation will put them farther away from their goal here. He has a hunch about the guards’ posture, and he needs to confirm it without asking directly. Granted, he doesn't believe they would answer it, anyway.

“I request to see the princess, then,” he says.

“The princess isn't to leave her chambers till the Queen allows,” the first guard replies.

Zayn nods. “Thank you for your time. We'll return at some other opportunity.”

Before leaving, he fishes a diamond from Liam's bag, covertly enchanting it before handing it to the second guard. If his hunch is correct, this will grant them access to Deku Princess.

Hidden in the forest ahead, Zayn puts his plan to motion. He focuses on the second half of the spell, and images come up on the lake's surface, different from their reflection. They're moving through corridors, passing walls of bark, vines and moss, till finally face-to-face with a familiar, forlorn face.

_“I order you to free me!”_

The image of Deku princess strides up to the guard. Her eyes catch the diamond, then her hands do the same.

_“Your Highness, we cannot—”_

Oh, they can. Deku Princess spits a Deku nut straight to his face, making a run for the door in sequence. A second and a third guards leap from behind the doors, and her little escapade ends before it even begins.

“The Queen is gone, too, I suppose?” Liam wonders aloud. His eyes meet Zayn's, and although it's wordless, it's clear they've reached the same conclusion. “Why not take her daughter, too?”

Maybe the princess just isn't good at shaman magic. Zayn isn't too familiar to know for sure. Given that Vaati has deemed him ‘useless’ before, the same might have happened here. Either way, it confirms Deku Queen as another cog in Vaati's plan.

“They left.” Liam points to Deku princess slamming her wooden hands against her door. “Now?”

“Now,” Zayn confirms.

He reaches out his hand to the princess' reflection and recites a spell. A green hue gathers in his hand, the same to envelop Deku princess. When he finishes it, her reflection disappears from the lake, and her form appears before him.

"Zayn of Hyrule!" she exclaims, tumbling backwards into Liam's legs. "What's this? What's the meaning of this?!"

She deserves a better explanation than the one Zayn offers, but again, they _all_ deserve better explanations. Still, Zayn limits himself to giving the main points: he needs her help to save her mum and his dad.

And, oh, every other living person on Termina, seemingly.

"Sounds somewhat fantastical, but your eyes don't seem to lie, neither do your... _special mate_ 's eyes." She gives Liam a once-over, before turning to Zayn again. "Very well. I'm taking you to the Kokiri. If anyone knows the forest, it's definitely them."

Zayn smiles. "Thank you for believing in me."

Deku princess flips her grassy hair, placing her barky hands to her hips. "At least you've bothered telling me _something_."

They set off to Kokiri Village, under the princess' directions. As expected, it doesn’t take long till small bungalows come into view. Liam uncaps his bottle to let a mini Deku Princess out return to her original size.

"Kokiri folks, it's I, Deku Princess," she announces in a surprisingly dignified voice. "I've come to you for help, along with Hyrule's heir."

A few minutes pass in absolute silence. A timid little girl of ample eyes comes out of a tree cabin, accompanied by a fairy. Following her, some other toddlers her age also with a fairy each.

"What business do you have here, honourable princess?" The little girl asks, but her voice sounds as mature as an old lady.

"A great peril approaches. We need help reaching the Forest Temple." Deku Princess points to Zayn, to which he steps forwards holding out the wand acquired underneath Hyrule's castle. "If you would be patient to listen—"

"You seek to stop the Demon King," the Kokiri girl says. She studies Zayn's wand, then stares him down. "You seek the four heroes to stop the calamity."

Well, this facilitates things. It saves Zayn from telling again a rather barmy story he partially believes himself. Deku Princess and Liam believe him, so it's a relief to find someone acquainted with this so-called prophecy.

Or just as barmy as him to believe it.

"Can you help us...”

"Saria," she offers.

"Can you help us, Saria?" he reiterates.

The little girl smiles. “That's been my purpose for thousands of moons."

Zayn and Liam exchange a confused look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voe: 'Man' in Gerudo language.
> 
> Sarqso: 'Thank you' in Gerudo language.
> 
> Vehvi: 'Child' in Gerudo language.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	3. Noon

**III**

“I'm Navi, and I'll be your guide!”

Liam sucks his bottom lip in, studying the fairy perched on his forefinger. Discounting the light that shrouds it—and speech—there's no difference to a butterfly. Saria kindly gave it to him, along with an ocarina, and for this he's grateful. Confused, yet grateful.

He's more concerned about meeting the sentient tree guardian to the Lost Woods. On the bright side, they've met someone to legitimise their story. On the cloudy-with-a-chance-of-rain side, they're tasked with exploring a maze flooded with blight. Does it even count as improvement?

“You all right, babe?” he asks, reaching for Zayn's hand.

Zayn shoves an extra bottle of antidote into his pouch. “I suppose? It's getting more complicated than I expected.”

Liam doesn't blame him. One moment, it's fun and festival booths. Before they know it, they're tasked with saving the world, slaying an evil God and stopping an environmental catastrophe. There's hardly room to be ‘fine’.

“We're here!” Navi spirals around Liam's head, then hovers by the tall arch over hedges a few metres ahead. “This is the entrance to the Forest Temple!”

“It's a maze,” Zayn counters.

Liam sniffs the air, readily regretting the stench to assault his nostrils. The thick fog blankets whatever is past the entrance gate, but to his nose something has died. Several days ago. It's enough to invite his meal at Kokiri Village back into his throat.

“It's a swamp.” Liam puts a hand to his mouth. To his contentment a hand applies a blue light to his stomach and his nose. Both the stench and the sickness vanish. “And a very stinky one.”

Past the entrance, it's a worse scenario than seen from outside. Purple mud fizzles like hot sauce on a pan. The fog they see is actually a high concentration of fumes in the air, blanketing three other entrances. There's an enormous shadow Liam makes out in this thick fog, but even this is a shapeless silhouette the sun tries to unveil in vain.

Liam narrows his eyes at each path. Nothing much visible past each entrance. Maybe if Zayn could blow the fumes away... But again, wind magic to fan over this entire area can’t be simple. And he'd hate to shatter Zayn's confidence with an impossible request.

“How do we choose?” he asks Navi instead.

The tiny fairy flutters from side to side, tinkering like a bell. “There's only one path we can reach without the key!”

Liam sighs. “That... doesn't say much, to be honest.”

It's not Navi's half advice to motivate Liam, but Zayn's voice instead.

 _“Leeyum!_ " Zayn waves him in. "Come here!"

Before them, disguised in moss of dozens of years, a Sheikah stone eyes them. Liam immediately draws his sword and hits it. The ringing sound of metal dies out, and then a voice speaks to him.

 _The right wing leads to which you seek._  
_The left wing to riches.  
_ _Midway, you shall find the thrill of a brawl._

The Gossip Stone ceases resonating and bouncing, again, unmoving as it's been at first.

"Right wing for what we want, left wing for treasure and middle road for a fight," he relays the stone's message. "So... right, I suppose?"

To the right they go. They soon find out that sneaking along the walls provides _some_ foothold. Navi rides it on Zayn’s head, so she doesn’t worry as much about sinking and melting into the poisonous soup at their feet.

True to a genuine maze, the path turns and twists over itself, till they reach solid ground. Just a small clearing in the middle of vines and fog. There's not much to see, either, except for a thorny pedestal with a golden skull chest in chains.

Zayn grabs Liam's shoulder. "Oi. I thought it said 'left for treasure'?"

That would be correct. However, that's a treasure chest, if they've ever seen one. Maybe it’s been the _statue’s_ left, instead of _their_ left.

"We still need the key to open the temple!" Navi tells them. "Somebody go fetch it, please! I would... if I had hands!"

Still, Liam can’t dismiss the nagging on the back of his head. Yeah, they’ve just crossed a poisonous swamp, and its fog-like fumes. Even then, that's not it. He can’t tell where this uneasiness comes from, but he knows where it doesn’t.

Exhaling, he approaches the pedestal, step by step. There's a solid chance it's a trap. Trap or not, if they need a key, that’s their best clue. Locking a key that unlocks something does seem counterproductive, he must say.

Just as he reaches for the chest, a nefarious presence alerts him. He draws his sword and shadesteps back to Zayn's side, shield in hand.

“Something’s coming!” he warns.

Navi flutters around in an erratic pattern of quick turns and sharp angles. Dark smoke pours from the skull's eye sockets, raining down around them. It starts to gain form in a 4-legged animal of golden eyes. Its howling bids the remaining smoke to also reshape, though slightly smaller, surrounding them.

Liam has been to huntings. He recognises a Wolfos when he sees one, and surely also a _pack_ of them. These Wolfos, however, read differently from any he's seen. Their fangs are longer and their claws reek of elf blood.

"Okay, maybe this _is_ the path to a fight," Zayn says, taking his wand in hand.

"Put up a shield. A strong one," he tells Zayn, twirling his sword. "They smell of blood. Many different types."

The Alpha Wolfos snarls. Two of its betas lash at Liam. He beheads both, but the Wolfos only return to smoke and recover the next instant. Two more betas attack, colliding with Zayn's ice shield.

"Wolfos hate to have their tail touched!" Navi flutters to Liam. "Wait for an opening and strike back!"

A nice concept, if the Wolfos attacked orderly instead of barely giving them time to counterattack. The beasts attack in rapid succession, from all directions. One misses Liam’s arm for a little, thanks to a fireball to its head.

"I’m accepting suggestions," Liam says, upon sticking his back to Zayn's. "Any ideas welcome."

Zayn scoffs over his shoulder. "Wha’ about your ideas?"

"You tend to not like them, remember?" Liam slashes at one Wolfos, then bashes another one with his shield. "The dogs got the ‘dangerous’ bit covered already!"

“Can’t say it’s much better than your usual ones.” He shoots down another two Wolfos with fireballs. “But I suppose that’s not a problem for ya!”

Liam throws Zayn a last glance to confirm the plan shared over their link. If it works, they're safe. If it doesn't, _well_ , they're definitely saying hello to a brutal mauling.

The Alpha Wolfos issues a new command to its pack, too. The moment the Wolfos all lunge at them, Zayn transfers his ice shield to the Alpha Wolfos. With a singularity: he leaves the beast’s tail out.

Liam shadesteps behind the leader, chopping the unprotected tail with a cross slash. The Wolfos that jump Zayn and Navi implode in a dust cloud at once.

Navi's wings unfurl, and she takes to the sky again with cheerful rings. "It's worked! I can't believe it's worked!"

"My words, exactly," Liam replies, shadestepping back to Zayn's side. He searches for wounds, and upon finding none, pulls Zayn into a tight hug. "Thank Goddess, it did," he adds, holding Zayn at arm's length.

Zayn grins. "All packs need a leader. That's biology."

An explanation on pack dynamics gets postponed by rattling coming from the chest. The chains to bind it burst and fall off. Red orbs light up the skull eye sockets, and the lid opens with a resounding _click_. Navi zooms into the chest.

"I’ve found this!" She drops a rose-shaped key in Liam’s hand. “There’s nothing else!”

Zayn narrows his eyes. “Wha’ happened to you ‘not having hands’?”

"Might as well get that treasure, I reckon," Liam says.

Indeed, Zayn takes them back to the entrance to follow left. Likewise, a patch of solid ground awaits them at the end of this trail, too. This time, however, the chest found competes with Zayn's bath in size.

Liam tilts his head to the large blue and gold chest. "You get it."

Zayn shakes his head, pushes Liam towards it.

“All right. I do it,” he replies.

The lid of the chest folds back and light pours out. From it, Liam fishes a pair of greaves-like boots with knee guards. Navi glows a faint blue, then begins her erratic flight pattern again.

"You've acquired the Pegasus Boots!" she says in a textbook-like tone. "Wear it to enhance your jump and dash capabilities!"

Zayn draws Liam into him. “How does she know tha’?”

“No idea, but... she sounds excited about it.”

Testing seems the most efficient way to attest it, and that's what Liam does. These boots don't seem any different from his old ones. Except that when he attempts to jump—not hop—he goes higher and even does a second jump mid-air. There’s no impact on landing, either, as he returns to the ground light as a feather.

Next, he tries stepping on the swamp, and what's his surprise to find out he can't sink. Even when carrying Zayn's extra weight on him.

"Hold on tight," he tells Zayn.

Now that dashing over marsh isn’t an issue, it’s time for some exploration.

#

There's a reason for calling these places _trials_ , and the puzzles they run into are proof. Landmines, wooden stakes, poisonous arrows and spinning blades. A new thrill awaits them at every corner.

Monsters infest the temple, too. Keese swarm on anyone with blood, but are generally weak, and fall with a single arrow to their large eye. Using fire, ice or lightning only charges them with magic, and for most part Zayn uses Liam’s bow.

The Lizalfos—weapon-yielding lizard men—are a bit more cunning, with their swords and shields. Even so, they move in duos at most, and still rely solely on instinct. Defeating one doesn’t take more than dealing with a Wolfos, because they can’t outnumber Zayn and Liam.

Eventually, they reach the deepest portion of the temple. Past all traps and enemies, lies a humongous gate of plaited vines and thick bark, bound in golden chains.

"There's something bad behind this door." Liam places his palm flat against the imposing gate. "And I don't mean the whole"—he motions to the chains—"please-do-not-open seal on it."

"Be prepared for the last trial!" Navi says. "This challenge won't be anywhere the same level as the others!"

Zayn glances at Liam, and then at their fairy companion.

"I don't know why you sound so excited— cheers, I suppose," he mumbles, holding his hand out.

The Mana Zayn puts forth resonates with the four chains till all burst and collapse. The royal crest flashes on the gate, and then it rumbles, rising slowly. Purple dust wafts from the room ahead, rolling over the floor like waves on the shore.

As soon as they cross the entrance, the gate drops behind them. For a full minute, darkness is all Zayn can see. Torches light up along the circular wall, revealing it to be nothing more than roots and vines. They stand in an old stone tower overtaken by the unchecked growth of plants.

More of the purple dust rains down, like gleaming snow. Above them a massive eye watches their every move with an unwavering gaze.

Zayn grasps his wand tight. "What the—"

The giant moth flaps its four wings, only for more dust to rain down.

“Aha! I see a Mothula!” Navi exclaims. “Knock it from the air and only then unleash your fury!”

Zayn starts marching in her direction with a pincer like hand, but Liam’s hand stops him. She does it on purpose. He’s sure of it.

“Can you just burn the dust?”

There's a part of Zayn that needs to explain about dust explosions. _Badly_. How with this much solid particles in the air fire will consume the air in an instant. Not this time, though. Instead, he'll leave it a simple sentence.

"Fire will blow this entire place up," he says.

Mothula's eye turns, and shoots a beam at them. Liam vanishes out of its way, whilst Zayn teleports himself and Navi. Neither Liam's arrows or Zayn's icicles can reach the monster from here. Every projectile gets fanned back by just the flap of Mothula’s enormous wings.

Liam suggests they attack from above, but without a clear view of the area, Zayn can’t teleport. And Liam can't vanish his way behind it, either, because what he does is high-speed movement. He still needs to move there to get there, unlike Zayn's teleport.

Mothula won’t make it easy, either, as boulders rain down on them. Each rock cracks, revealing those to be eggs, and from it, goat-sized caterpillars crawl out.

Liam chops the seven surrounding him with his spinning blade. Zayn impales three others in ice spears, and the last one he traps in his pyramidal shield, like the Alpha Wolfos from earlier.

High above, Mothula shrieks and hisses, sending a wind storm with its furious flapping. She doesn't enjoy the killing of her spawn, even though she's the one to chuck them at the enemy. And will do again, as her beak unhinges to reveal another slimy egg within it.

"A second volley is on the way!" Navi rings, bringing their attention upwards. "We'll end up buried in scales or yucky Morth’s corpses!"

Which, needless to say, isn’t the most exciting prospect ever, despite her tone. She wouldn’t sound as chirp if that thing were up close on her—

A thought occurs Zayn.

"We'll lure it down," he tells Liam. "If we can't, we bring it down."

The pyramid around the Morth reshapes, and ice thorns grow inside, impaling it. More eggs rain on them. Liam ascends with a double leap, and unleashing his spinning blade, chops through everything on his way up.

Again, Mothula screeches. Again, it prepares to drop more eggs on them.

Before more caterpillars hatch, Zayn teleports around the room, touching corpses and smashed eggs. Each one he encases in a block of ice, before teleporting them away. Thud sounds can be heard from above. Mothula begins to writhe and lose altitude, little by little.

_Leave one for me._

Zayn nods back at Liam. Message received, even if he can't tell the plan.

_Send it high._

A slap of Zayn's hand sends the remaining frozen egg a few metres above them. He then watches Liam leap into the air and use the frozen egg as a first step. From this point on, Zayn follows an improbable zigzag bouncing off the tower’s walls.

“Are you serious?” He blinks. “How in Hylia’s name—”

Mothula's eye follows Liam’s movements, her beak unhinging again.

"No, you won't!" Zayn growls. He freezes the first egg in Mothula’s beak, stopping it. " _Leeyum!_ "

Liam has already reached Mothula. She’s lost altitude with the extra load of her frozen eggs on her back. The effort to keep herself airborne prevents her from blowing gale winds over them.

“Nightshade Arts—” Liam holds his sword behind his back “—Harvest.”

Eight clean slashes tear the two upper wings. With half of her wings gone, plus the added weight of Zayn's on her back, Mothula plummets.

However, Zayn's attention isn't with it, but rather with the sight of Liam sprinting down the wall, away from her. He's falling, no doubt, but he's also _running_.

Along a bloody wall.

_A little help would be appreciated._

_**Now** you say tha'._

Zayn looks around for anything he can use that not ice. Improvisation isn’t his forte, or else he wouldn’t fail Ifra’s tests so often. He flicks his wand, commanding the goo on the floor to rise. It converges into an elastic cobweb he throws between Liam and Mothula. The threads last enough for Liam to land safely and get under his shield with him and Navi.

The impact of Mothula's exoskeleton ignites a spark, and, by consequence, an explosion. Flames and heat consume the purple snow in a single instant. Only when the top of the tower opens and sunshine floods in, does Zayn release his spell.

Navi hovers to what's left of Mothula's eye. Since Liam's already covered in goo, Zayn sends him to inspect it.

"I found this," Liam says. On his palm, a cone-shaped emerald rests.

When Zayn reaches for it, his wand and the gem levitate, merging together in a viridian glare.

 _“Descendant of the Hero of time,  
_ _Your presence here means time has come again.  
_ _Time to stop the calamity.  
_ _Persevere, and claim victory!”_

The otherworldly female voice echoes in Zayn’s minds. Liam nods to him, so he isn’t the only one to hear it. A strong light engulfs Liam, and then his vest has also changed in colour, from the usual viridian to tyrian.

 _Descendant of Hylia,_  
_I, Farore, Goddess of wind, grant you my blessing.  
_ _Claim the powers of the breeze and protect the life I have created._

Zayn reaches for this new wand, and upon grabbing, has a gale blow from under his feet. He closes his eyes. The wind here... it carries words that he hasn’t been able to hear before. Words that aren't spoken, but that a breeze carries directly into his core, through his breathing.

"You have mastered Farore magic!" Navi says. "You should be a tad stronger now!"

Zayn holds his wand aloft. A single swish from it starts a circular wind to spring Navi around.

_“Do not allow evil to triumph.”_

The voice fades away, and a blue pond of light gushes in the middle of the room.

"I knew you could do it!" Liam beams, pulling Zayn in a tight hug.

That's when realisation hits Zayn, because they've done it. The first step towards getting his dad back and saving their kingdom. It's seemed so fantastical and distant, but they've succeeded. Suddenly, it's no longer some unreachable goal, or some bollocks made up to have them risking their arses.

It gives Zayn a purpose and the certainty that he can do it. _They_ can do it.

"We'll bring everyone back." Liam says, pulling back. He gives Zayn a soft peck to each cheek, then tows him to the light. "Let's go. We're done here."

Maybe Zayn doesn't get it completely. It doesn’t matter. He simply smiles at their conjoined hands, letting Liam lead the way.

He chooses to believe Liam's words again. More than ever before, too.

#

The effects of Farore's blessing show up as soon as they step out of the blue portal, back to the maze's entrance. Zayn teleports them and their horses to Kokiri Village at once. Before, he could only move one large body with him at times.

Saria's bungalow is their first destination. They should let her know of their findings and safe return. They're also to take Deku Princess home before the guards notice her absence. Given that search parties haven't been dispatched _already_.

"They're back!" Zayn hears a toddler's voice yell, and upon opening his eyes, a crowd of little ones flocks to him and Liam.

Within seconds, the commotion draws attention from those in the tree houses, and finally two familiar faces. Deku Princess rushes in their direction, bouncing with her every leap.

Most of the adventure in the temple is cut short, and therefore keeps Deku Princess' stay short. What matters is the gist of it, really. They've confirmed that so-called prophecy from another source. There's a few more temples to visit, and they're exploring those, too.

"No sign of _Baba_ or your mum," he finishes his report. "I'm not giving up, though. I've decided to carry on with my travels."

"And I'm going with him," Liam adds, to which Zayn can't help a small smile.

Deku Princess combs a fingerless hand through her grassy hair. Her hollow eyes stare Zayn down for a moment, and then she beckons him down, closer to her short height.

"It's not like I can help much, locked up in that castle," she replies. Her tone carries an underlying frustration that Zayn knows too well, and that isn't aimed at him, he knows.

Powerlessness tastes bitter. Never again does he wish to have everything and everyone robbed from him before his eyes. Not everyone; he still has Liam, and thanks the Goddess he still does.

"We're taking you home, your Highness." Liam places his hefty bag on the floor. He's insisted in collecting the monster parts from defeated foes, and now it weighs him down with fangs, pelt and several bones. "It'll be bad if they think we kidnapped you."

Saria agrees with the general plan, and Zayn can't say he finds any flaws in it. Right now, that's all they can do. It's already evening and their energy is gone. He needs a bath. Liam needs a bath. Princess Deku needs to be home. Anything else can wait till tomorrow.

"Be finished with your errand and return here," Saria tells them. "We have an important matter to discuss."

What she doesn't mention is that their ‘discussion’ isn't even her idea. Once they return from Deku territory, they visit the Great Deku Tree again, now a much more lively sequoia tree. As lively as an ancient, sentient tree playing with squirrels and little birds can be, Zayn supposes.

The Great Deku Tree congratulates them on their feats, and thanks them for saving its forest. With Mothula gone, the swamp has started to heal, and poison no longer runs down the aquifer. Bit by bit, the smog dissipates, and soon the air must be fresh and clean again.

"Take this as a token of my and the Kokiri's gratitude," it says, dropping a seed that's slightly smaller than Zayn's fist onto his palm. "Take this to an old friend of mine. I have no doubts her support will benefit your cause."

Zayn looks at Liam for help, and unsurprisingly finds a smile ready for him. Small and conspicuous, to the point he would miss it, hadn't he seen it before. Though, he must admit Liam's assurance makes it easier for him.

_Why look at me? You’re dying to go now, aren’t you?_

Zayn nibbles on his bottom lip, and it only prompts a chuckle to echo in his mind.

_I knew it! You're too curious, honestly._

_Oi! Can't even tell if you're insulting me or not..._

Liam quirks his eyebrows. Makes it seem involuntary, too, rubbing his eye for imaginary dust.

_You'll **know** when I'm insulting you, book nerd._

"Is it okay... if we go now?" he asks, studying the odd seed, ignoring Liam’s laughter in his mind. The Kokiri will hold a surprise feast for them, so he doesn’t plan on taking long. "I'm curious, I admit. But I don't want to impose, either!"

A patch of vegetation starts shuffling to the right of the great Deku Tree. What's a thick bush of hedges and leaves parts in two halves, revealing a pristine flower trail.

"Go and sate your curiosity, Hylian Prince." The large face on the tree's bark smiles. “It's of your interest to visit her as soon as you can."

Zayn lets out a tiny breath, then smiles back.

“I’m staying with Saria! Have fun, boys!” Navi tells them, already fluttering to Saria’s head.

Soon as they step onto the path, the entrance closes off. It reoccurs for the rest of the trail behind, every few steps. They're not coming back from where they've entered. Not for now, at least.

Fortunately, the trail is straight, and soon they reach a meadow. Mushrooms that can easily serve as chairs sprout by every rock and every tree. Small glows hover around like fireflies. At the centre of the area, more mushrooms form a stairway to a five petal blossom that's larger than a ballroom.

Zayn turns to Liam and exhales.

_Wha’ you think?_

_There's definitely someone in there._

That's what Zayn had imagined. Even from this distance, he can tell that flower carries a large source of Mana. Liam can’t sense Mana, but he can sense living beings. Whatever lies in there, has as much Mana as his dad or Vaati. Unlike Vaati’s, though, this Mana welcomes him instead of smothering him.

They climb the mushroom stairs that are surprisingly sturdy for—you know— _fungus_. At the top of the flower, they find its core hollowed, filled with sparkling water of fruity smell.

"I can't see anything," Liam says, his eyes dimming down from pink to their usual red. "There's something weird about this water. Weird _weird_ , I mean."

Yeah, because 'weird' has been the key word since yesterday. To say something is 'weird', by now, is to point out the obvious. And is weird still weird when it becomes so usual in one's life? Because if weird happens as much as normal, it then becomes the new normal, right?

But Zayn doesn't get the luxury of entertaining philosophy. A tremor rumbles from deep inside the flower, and then the water surface breaks. Shrieking fills the air in the meadow, soon replaced by hysterical laughter.

"How many millennia have passed since my last visitor?"

The mysterious figure to ask Zayn eyes him through their metre long eyelashes. Their hands weave together under their chin, and they watch him expectantly, still guffawing like a Gibdo's screech. (Which is disturbing in itself that somebody laughs like a mummy’s shriek.)

Meeting a 20 feet tall person hadn’t been in Zayn’s schedule for today. Those hands could easily crush him, like a kid snaps a twig in half. It doesn't look like they'll do it, though, otherwise they would already have done it. And past the fuchsia hair that's thrice the size of their head, and the heavy face painting on cheeks and eyes, especially, there isn't much of a threat to it.

_Hopefully._

"The Great Deku Tree sent us." Zayn produces the seed gifted to him from his pocket. "I'm the current Prince of Hyrule, Zayn."

The giant screech laughs, throwing their head back before lowering their face to Zayn's height. Liam, till then only watching, steps between them and Zayn.

"Hylian royalty, eh?" They scrutinise Zayn with ample, emerald green eyes, then turn to do the same to Liam. "With a Sheikah? Seems like this world has grown more interesting!"

More laughter erupts from their chest. Is this mockery? Because Zayn can't tell what they mean by ‘interesting’ here. He has no idea what this being knows of the current state of affairs, but nothing is remotely ‘interesting’. That's for sure.

"You bear Big D's nut, so I assume you're friend rather than foe," they say, propping an elbow on a flower petal, and then their chin on their hand.

Zayn immediately shuts Liam’s snort with a glare.

"I'm the Great Fairy Queen, Cotera, sweethearts,” she adds. “Welcome to my humble pond."

Although she uses words like ‘humble’ and ‘pond’, it couldn’t be further from the truth. The glowing lights—condensed Mana, Zayn now realises—and the flowers make for exotic, yet elegant decoration. Were it man made constructs, they wouldn’t be short of a few million rupees, he’s sure.

Her jewellery falls on the opulent side, too. A jade necklace that drapes her bosom in emeralds. The same kind of emerald to dangle from her pointy ears. On each arm, more luxury: a cuff, a ring bracelet, and a trinket to dangle from her pinky nail. And of course, a diadem that almost loses itself under her untamed mane of fuchsia hair.

She’s said _‘queen’_ , too, so it figures. Liam has heard it, too, as he takes a knee, head bowed.

“I assume you are here for my services?” she asks.

Maybe? If Zayn knew what kind of services she offers, it’d be easier to answer that.

“It’s an honour to meet you, Your Majesty,” he replies. “I’m afraid we don’t really know what we’re doing here.”

More shriek laughter fills the air, and it’s hard not to get startled by its suddenness. Queen Cotera throws her head back, scrunches her eyes. It’s a good minute before she reins over herself. Zayn has zero idea what amuses her, but good for her to be in high spirits. _Somebody_ has to be, he supposes.

“You two are cute, so I won’t charge you.” She places her index finger between her bottom lip and chin, at the end of her long explanation. “I do however require some materials for that— most monster remains will do. The rarer, the better.”

Zayn nearly snaps his neck when turning to a rather smug Liam.

“Told you it'd be useful,” Liam whispers.

Some. She’s said _some_. Surely _not_ a massive bag full of it. If not for his teleport, taking it back to the Kokiri forest would have been troublesome. And Zayn's only reason for agreeing had been Liam’s pout. (Or his own inability to say no to it.)

Zayn sticks the tip of his tongue out. “Yeah? You don't even have it on you right now!”

His tone doesn't carry half the challenge that might come across. He doesn't expect Liam to carry it around more than he'd have expected back in the forest temple. Not for Liam’s strength—which is plenty—but for the hassle that’s carrying a heavy, 6 feet bag around.

“Boys, boys! Don't argue, please!” Queen Cotera places an index finger on each of their heads, and _Goddess,_ are her hands huge. “I'm not here to start a love quarrel. I’m here to help!”

Liam holds a hand up. "Your Majesty, we're not—”

However, Queen Cotera is back in her own world, letting the misunderstanding linger. She's clapping her hands rhythmically, and jamming to a song only hears. Common fairies around the garden also waltz around, gathering leaves, vines, mushrooms and flowers.

The gathered materials rain around her and into her fountain, as she twirls and claps. Moss-coloured steam wafts off the bubbling mix that's now her fountain.

Now, it's pretty unlikely cooking herself would be her way of helping them out. Again, that's also one word to define everything about the Great Fairy Queen: unlikely. So, _yeah_ , Zayn won’t think too hard.

But then he has to, when she spiral dives into the water, vanishing from sight.

And then won’t, again, as she resurfaces, hysterical like the very first time. But now she secures her hands folded to her chest. Clasped between her palms, she holds a light orb that she blows in Liam’s direction.

Zayn shuffles closer to him for a better look.

“With this you can carry a lot more with you,” she explains, as Liam unravels a rectangular pouch attached to a belt. “I'd need rarer materials for my best work, but I'm confident this will ease some of your troubles as it is.”

Zayn holds his palm to the bag. He wouldn't consider his magic detection the best in the whole land, but even he can recognise the craft behind this accessory. Powerful and complex spells layered into a single object in the space of, what, five minutes?

This bag is the kind of magic artefact Ifra would go on a murderous spree to see him craft.

“This is amazing!” Zayn looks up at her. “How can we ever repay your generosity, Your Majesty?”

“Come visit me a few times in your lifetime. I enjoy looking at pretty things,” she deadpans, then banshee cackles, startling them. “I jest, sweeties! Come back whenever you need my help. If Big D. sent you here, I have the feeling you'll need it.”

Before they leave, Queen Cotera teaches Liam how to use his bag, as well as mark the location of other Great Fairies’ fountains on Zayn's map.

“Together, there's little the two of you can't accomplish,” she tells them, then spiral dives back into her pond.

Zayn takes it as their cue to let her rest.

Liam giggles to himself. “‘Big D.’s nut’...”

“Goddess!” Zayn slaps his arm. “Your mind really became a gutter!”

“She's... very different from your image of a queen,” he admits, clearing his throat. “It’s unexpected. I don’t know?”

The way back to Great Deku Tree is the perfect opportunity to try out Cotera’s gift. All Liam has to do is tap whatever he wants to put into his bag whilst touching it. Flowers, vegetables, small critters— nothing escapes his hands or feet. By the time they reach the entrance to Cotera’s woods, Liam’s bag carries dozens of Blue Nightshades and Endura Carrots, and also a few fairies and Restless Crickets.

He picks a single Silent Princess along the way as well, but this one he doesn’t stow away: he tucks behind Zayn’s right ear. _“It suits you,”_ is all he says, as though the gesture doesn’t start fires under Zayn’s cheeks.

“Do you smell something burning?”

Okay, maybe it's a little worse than Zayn anticipated, if Liam can smell it on him. He knows Liam’s sense of smell is acute, but this is _beyond_ ridiculous. Ludicrous, even.

Zayn sniffs the air. “I don't smell—”

Only that he does. There's a distinct scent of burnt herbs sipping through the vegetation, he's pretty sure of it. Years of failed potions train your nose for such. But then, it smells too strong to be a simple potion.

The hedges do not move, keeping the exit blocked. The smell of burnt leaves only grows stronger, and soon the reek of smoke fills the air. There's little time to work a counter spell, nor does it seem they'll have the time to go back for Cotera’s help.

Liam draws his sword. “I'm cutting this open.”

The idea isn't all that bad, but fundamentally disregards that these are no ordinary bushes, and magic can't be undone on force alone. _Alone_.

“ _Leeyum_ , wait!” he asks of Liam, placing his hand to the fuller of the sword. “ _Dast-e-toofan_.”

Now, this is just a hunch. But if this is a separated space from the reality they know, and this barrier keeps intruders out, then it’s more brittle on the inside. Focusing on the exterior of a shield leaves the interior weaker in comparison. _“It’s the principle of every strong barrier,”_ Ifra would tell him.

It's briefer than a bat of an eye. Light pours through two superimposed triangles carved on the hedges. The resulting hexagon of bushes collapses in, large enough for adults to duck through the hole. Liam extends his hand to Zayn.

On the other side, a hellish scene unfolds before their eyes. A sea of flames rages on, devouring The Lost Woods. The Great Deku Tree itself lies split in half. Scattered at its roots dozens of lifeless toddlers. Pools of olive taint the ground, an unmoving Kokiri soaking in each of them. At the distance, an enormous scorpion-like beast feasts on them.

“Save... them...”

Zayn drops his wand, and grabs the little hand begging for help. Slowly, he flips the small body over, revealing a deep gash across Mido’s chest.

“Oi! Mido! Don't push yourself,” Zayn tells him in a hush. There's too much olive. There's olive everywhere, flowing freely when it shouldn't. “I'm gonna heal you, yeah? Don't speak, please!”

The injured Kokiri’s next words are _“took Saria,”_ and then his eyelids droop till they no longer flutter, till his chest no longer draws any breaths.

Zayn still reaches for his wand, though ends up knocking it farther away from him. It's not before a large hand steadies his wrist that he realises his whole body trembles.

He stares at Liam with blurry eyes, searches for an answer, but only meets a slow shake of a head.

“He's gone,” Liam says. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and it’s no surprise it draws a little crimson from it. “ _They're_ gone.”

The Kokiri are an interesting race. Dubbed as the ‘immortal children of land’ they're neither children, nor immortal. Their bodies simply stop ageing after they reach a certain age. For this reason, they remain toddlers in appearance and can't die of old age. They're immortal before the mercilessness of time, but not against outside factors, such as illness or accidents.

So, to meet this kind of end, that's worse than falling prey to the sands of time.

“Survey the village for survivors.” Liam rubs the back of his hand across his eyes, drawing his sword. “That thing is mine.”

Zayn shakes his head. He slowly lays Mido’s head down, and folds the tiny arms over the stomach area. His prayer to the Goddess is rushed and brief, but it translates his wish well— that she grants them peace they hadn't known in their final moments.

He also offers Liam some words, though he wouldn't be any wiser to them, despite proffering them. Just like he wouldn't know Liam’s words back to him.

All Zayn knows is that he marches forwards, never halting. Not when the beast notices him, not when it points its green-stained scythes in his direction. There's something that moves him— _bids_ him—and this he cannot stop. He _won't_ stop.

#

“Zayn! Zayn!”

It's no use. The ice pyramid doesn't give out to Liam’s punches and kicks. If anything, his siege seems to grow sturdier with every hit. It’s on a different level from the ones back in the Forest Temple.

“Zed, no! It's going to attack!” He tries once more to kick the barrier, and a jolt courses through his right ankle. “Shit!” he hisses. “Zayn! Let me out!”

Whereas Zayn doesn’t hear him, the beast notices Liam just fine. A single red eye of vertical iris skids around, searching, till it focuses on him. The dark slit enlarges, narrowing in sequence, leaving only a thin, black stripe in a mirror of red. Red that becomes blue to the light that gathers before it.

Liam kicks and punches, even harder than before. The glow in the creature's eye grows gradually harsher, the now cerulean replaced with a white glare.

And then, the creature looks downwards. It raises its head again the next moment, and a beam sears the land in a straight line towards Zayn.

All his strength fails to buy Liam freedom, and worse, his attempt costs him a few bones. He yells for Zayn, punches the barrier some more. He's powerless. Like he’s never been since his childhood years. Caged in this pyramid, he can’t brandish his sword to free himself from.

“Dodge it!” he bellows, and again, there’s no indication Zayn hears him.

And then, it's too late.

The laser and a dust cloud engulf Zayn. Rocks and chunks of soil fly everywhere, and not even these put a dent on the shield around Liam. However, it's not the magnitude of the explosion, nor the strength that Zayn's magic that catches Liam’s eye through his agony.

“What was that...” he whispers to himself, noticing a second explosion, but in the opposite direction to Zayn.

_Zed? Babe, answer me!_

Dust settles first on Zayn’s side. Among the smoke, stands a seemingly unscathed Zayn. Before him, a pyramid spins over its own axis, floating parallel to the ground.

A smile tugs at the corners of Liam’s lips. His knees readily give out under him, and then he's on them, eyes burning and hand clenched around his injured ankle. He doesn't care how Zayn has done it; he's glad to see him in one piece. _Literally._

While the shield explains Zayn's physical integrity, it does nothing for the explosion on the monster's side. Luckily, dust starts to settle on that side, too, and then Liam sees it. Unsure at first, but certain of it when the air clears out.

Liam blinks at the large stone wall with the Sheikah crest on it. Rather, the Sheikah crest upside-down— the crest of the Yiga.

The wall splits in two, revealing an enormous scarlet eye behind it. Zayn's shield rockets across the air like an arrow, but the wall closes again, shielding the beast's eye completely. The wall splits again, becoming its two forelegs.

“That's a Gohma! Powerful scythes and a sturdy shield before its eye make up for its one—no pun intended—glaring weakness!”

Liam looks up at Navi. Now that he thinks about it, he had forgotten about her staying behind.

“Its forelegs react at high speeds to protect its sole and biggest vulnerability,” she chirps, fluttering in an erratic, zigzag pattern. “Its stone shield is even sturdier than its carapace, being merely multiple layers piled together! It's almost impossible—”

“Farore Spell: Bolt Wrath.”

Blue lightning shoots from Zayn's wand. Gohma’s shield closes in response. It intercepts the magic, at first, but then the shield shatters and crumbles. Gohma itself collapses next, charred and lifeless.

“—to... break it?” Navi adds, as lost as Liam.

An upwards gale blows plucking leaves from the trees around. Thunder roars in the skies, and clouds spiral over them, bringing down heavy rain. Zayn collapses, and so do his shields. Liam shadesteps to catch him before he hits the ground.

“He exhausted his Mana! How reckless!” Navi says, taking off Zayn's forehead. “I don't know how he's done it, but— boy, was that impressive!”

Liam surveys their surroundings. The rain has put the fire out. Wherever lies a small body, now a blanket of leaves covers them.

He combs a wet fringe of raven hair sideways, before picking Zayn up in his arms. Balancing is harder on just one leg, but with some help of his heel (and some wincing), he succeeds.

“He's incredible, yeah,” he tells her with a smile, and eyes on Zayn's peaceful face.

#

Zayn’s surroundings come to him in small doses. Mind still hazy, he tries piecing together whatever the hell happened last night. He remembers visiting Cotera’s pond and joining Saria and the others to celebrate— _Oh_.

The vivid scenes come back, trampling any joy Saria and her people had in their hearts about their water and air clear again. The once joyful laughter gives place to eerie, deafening silence. Olive spills around where cerulean would spill for a Hylian, or crimson for a Sheikah.

Zayn remembers hopelessness, powerlessness. He remembers many things, except how he's reached bed, or anything after laying Mido down.

_You're awake?_

The soft question in Zayn’s mind prompts him to raise his head. His hands skim the coarseness under his fingertips, and he nuzzles his cheek into dark, thick, chest hair. The comfort of familiarity only grows when an arm drapes itself over his ribs.

"If you're being this snugly, you're all right again."

"Missing those times you would _pretend_ to respect your prince," Zayn replies, though makes no attempt at denying it. Maybe because he can't, or because inhaling Liam's scent soothes him. "Good times."

A hearty laugh bubbles from Liam's chest, shaking Zayn up and down. There's not much sleep left for him to stir from, nor does he really mind the small quake under his cheek.

"You got me worried," Liam says when their eyes finally meet. "Don't do that _ever_ again."

And okay, maybe that's a promise Zayn can keep. But it goes on the premise that he knows what he's done, which... he doesn't. Not even a clue, besides Liam's tone that imply recklessness. If King of Recklessness Liam says it is reckless, it only causes him to worry _more_.

"Tha' bad, really? 'Cos I don't remember much," he admits, squinting his right eye. There's a lecture headed his way, so he braces himself for it. "I... don't remember anything."

Liam nods, catching Zayn's chin between his fingers. "I'll grab some brekky. We'll talk after eating, all right?"

Zayn rolls off Liam to watch an intricate stretching routine. His eyes follow the movement of Liam's back muscles, and for a moment it's easy to get lost in it. These are the shoulders that carry part of Hyrule on them. Built, chiselled and so firm at touch. Scars are nothing but mementos of conquered hardships, and divide Zayn between gratitude and guilt.

Liam gets up, then tumbles back into bed almost as readily. He curses and winces, clutched at his ankle, and only when shuffling closer does Zayn understand the cause.

"Your lack of self awareness impresses me." Zayn kneels down on the floor, placing a swollen foot on his lap, despite Liam's reluctance. "These bones are broken, _Leeyum_."

"You can sleep through pain with some training."

"That's not a compliment, by the way," he adds, poking a hard forefinger into a bluish spot. "Stay still, you doughnut."

Anaesthesia is an option that Zayn overlooks when rearranging Liam's broken bones. Let the lesson be learnt the hard way. Even if Liam's little pout has both giggling at the end.

The atmosphere remains light throughout breakfast, mainly due to banter. Zayn regrets his big mouth the moment he learns that Liam had put him on a separate bed, a fact that _aggravated_ a sleepwalking Zayn. _“You were all ‘Gimme pillow!’ and then you clung to me. My chest is your pillow, I suppose,”_ a rather smug Liam tells him.

It's only when the proverbial elephant in the room comes up that both grow silent. There's little to say, really. This small cottage isn't home for them, nor are the owners anywhere to be found. The sudden shift can't be avoided, but hopefully there's a better way to work around it. That's what Zayn figures when they visit the Great Deku Tree’s Prairie about an hour later.

The burnt smell still permeates the air, though no traces of smoke remain. It matches Liam’s report of a great fire, but still leaves a large gap to connect it to Navi's version of events. She has no reason to lie, he knows. It's just— he hasn't decided how to take Liam’s furrowed brow during her story.

No, really. Judging by Liam’s expression he would have assumed murder, or something equally heinous. Granted, blanking on using large scale magic isn't the _best_. He knows this. But he can’t not see Liam’s behaviour as a bit of an overreaction.

Till they uncover what should be a lifeless Mido.

“Herbs? They’re herbs!” Navi asks the question in everyone's minds. She flutters closer to the Hyrule Herbs by Liam’s feet. “Where has Mido gone?”

The same place where all the others, most likely. Under every mat of leaves the findings are the same: a small bed of herbs. The Great Deku Tree's bark are the only remains left behind. And it prompts Zayn to leave a flower for it as well, but then it's not as if he carries any in his pockets.

_Wait._

“ _Leeyum_ , dig a hole for me, please?”

Liam perks up at the request. Again, his brow furrows. At least this is the kind of frown Zayn recognises. It's confusion; not fear.

“Small, three inches… shouldn’t go too deep, either,” Zayn supplies, reaching into his pocket. _Yes, I knew I left it in here._

Liam grins. “That sounds like something else.”

With a flick of two fingers, a blob of air hits Liam behind the head. It's Zayn's turn to grin.

“Wind magic is pretty convenient,” he replies, content with his own quick thinking.

Once Liam punches a hole, the Great Deku Tree's seed finds its new home. Navi is opposed to letting it go, since it's a gift, but Zayn deems it right. After all, this is returning someone's belongings. They've met Cotera already; he's sure it's more important to remember the wise tree. Had him his harp here, he'd offer a tune as a proper farewell, as well.

As if by design, a soft melody fills the air. Serene, perhaps even hopeful. It's one Zayn doesn't recognise, despite the warmth it evokes in his chest.

The music comes from a tree a few metres away. Under it, on a large rock, Liam blows gently into an ocarina, the source of the pleasant music. His eyes remain closed, even after the twitch of his ears denounces his awareness of Zayn’s presence.

Zayn takes a place on the ground, far from being Liam’s sole audience. Fawns, birds, rabbits join him, shyly, gathered around Liam. Some animals have multiple bruises, Zayn notices. Cuts and burns and missing feathers or limbs. These are undoubtedly survivors of last night's massacre.

He holds his hands up conspicuously casting a healing spell over them. _“Shabnam-e-rooh.”_

“It's a bit of a song for the soul,” Liam says at the end of his solo. His voice disperses the animals gathered, but those that do stay, approach him after Navi perches herself on his left shoulder. “For those who leave, and for the ones left behind.”

And surely Liam talks of Sheikah traditions and those lost to combat, but it's hard not to appropriate it to his own situation, Zayn finds. Just a few days ago he still had his life as usual. Now, all that's left of those days are his memories and Liam.

Were he to lose either, he's not sure how he'd be able to go on.

#

Zora’s Domain is their next stop. Geographically speaking, Death Mountain should be the next logical choice. However, the volcanic lands to the Northwest are known for their flammable air, and everything that's not Goron-made or insulated goes into spontaneous combustion. They should find necessary items to buy over the desert, but then they'd have to deal with the Gerudo’s anti _voe_ laws.

In face of all these setbacks added together, some days on the road to Zora’s Domain seem perfectly reasonable.

One thing of notice is the high rate of monster encounter. They meet hordes of Bokoblin that are twice the usual numbers. Those groups, usually led by a single Moblin, now have two, even three of those tall goblins. Keese can also be seen flying in broad daylight, which is unusual for any bat.

The air is heavy, too. What Zayn initially dismisses as emotional toll, soon gets Liam’s confirmation: the air clings to the airways, as if they inhale fine dust. It doesn't seem like it can clog their throats and smother them, though long-term effect is hard to predict.

“We’re sleeping here,” Liam says, pointing to a freshly dug hole. From his pouch he produces some odd, grey fabric that immediately blends with the terrain, akin to a chameleon.

Navi zaps into the hole, her tiny form casting light on it. “Oh! The thrill of a mole’s life!”

“Zed, behave,” Liam warns, catching Zayn’s hand in a choke hold reaching for her.

She does it on purpose. He knows she does.

For four long nights they camp underground. By the time they reach Lurelin Village, it's been a week of slaying and fleeing monsters. Exhaustion has overtaken Epona and Badra as well, and so their rest is decided for them.

“Wear this.” Liam laces a beaten-up scarf around Zayn’s neck. “It'd be weird for a prince to travel without a proper scout.”

“Doesn't get more proper than having you with me,” Zayn shoots back, and honestly, it just escapes him.

Liam freezes up, and that's when awareness of their proximity punches Zayn’s guts. Because here they stand, face to face, staring at each other without as much as a blink. Liam still tugging at the end of his old red scarf, and Zayn staring at his lips.

“I'm not worthy of such praise, Your Highness.” Liam drops his hands, along with his gaze.

“ _Leeyum—_ ”

“Don't forget to cover your face,” he replies, making a sweeping motion over his own mouth and nose, as he steps backwards. “I'm going in first.”

Zayn’s left with the view of Liam leading their horses by the reins to the small village. He sighs, falling back into the tree serving as their hiding spot. Great. Just when he starts growing used to be _‘babe’_ again, his big mouth goes and takes him back to _‘Your Highness’_. Just _perfect_. Ugh.

“Hey! Are you done?”

Oh Goddess. Zayn flails, tangled up in the red scarf. By trying to escape the sudden voice, he stumbles over a root, dropping on his arse. He swats one end of the scarf away from his eye, and a twinkling Navi comes into view.

“It's dangerous to space out in the wild, you know!”

 _It's dangerous to startle people like that_ , he corrects her in his mind, though only winces, really. It's rather easy to forget she's accompanying them when she takes naps in Liam’s pouch.

“I'm aware. Cheers,” he replies, not meaning it as dry as it comes out. “Uhh... Just thinking about some stuff,” he adds in a softer tone.

Zayn unfurls the scarf over his head, unable to not notice the scent to readily wrap him. It's the whole set, actually: the scent, the cosy fabric, and this warmth that might as well be his imagination. Whatever it may be, this scarf carries a hug. A _Liam_ hug. This, alone, soothes Zayn’s troubles as good as any spell.

“Hide in here,” he orders Navi, making room for her near his clavicle, and draping themselves in a few more twists of the scarf. “Only come out when I say you can, all right?”

They meet Liam by the front counter, where a human girl skims over mellow pages of her large book.

"I'm sorry; we only have double beds available," she informs with a sympathetic smile. "If you're still interested, I can give you 25% off for your troubles."

Zayn's stomach drops. Does Liam want to be away from him this much to request separate beds? They've never slept in separate beds before. At least not when sharing a bedroom. And sure, it's Liam's right to have some space, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sting.

Time for Zayn to voice his opinion.

"We'll accept your generosity!"

The girl's face lights up, and she smiles at Zayn, then at Liam. "Your companion doesn't seem to mind."

 _Wha’?_ That's not his voice. How can she expect this typically feminine voice to be Zayn’s? He has to speak up and clear up this misunderstanding.

"My husband has an agitated sleep, but I don't mind!" the female voice explains when he opens his mouth again.

"I hope you'll enjoy your stay at Fishing Resort," the helpful girl chirps in a rehearsed tone. "Payment upfront. Name's Chessica, and here's your key."

Liam stares at Zayn, and his furrowed brow is every ounce of bewilderment as Zayn. He doesn't ask anything on their link, so Zayn assumes both have been caught off guard.

"Cheers, Chessica..." Liam replies, exchanging a single red rupee for an old key chained to a tiny seashell that reads _R 004._

"I'm not above brewing a potion of fairies," Zayn whispers into his scarf.

That's the last of a talk for them till reaching their room. The little boy to guide them scrams as soon as a rupee blesses his palm. Before he leaves, however, he gives Zayn a red rose.

"I'm having a bath," Liam grunts. He picks one of the towels in bed, strolling to the door. "Don't open to anyone."

Except that Zayn does close open the door, if only to let himself out. He just has to wait till Liam leaves for the open bath, and then he's free to explore the village.

#

Warmth seeps into Liam’s fatigued muscles. He sorta misses open baths back in Hyrule. That's one thing he misses from his training days under Impa. He misses winding down in hot water underneath a starry sky. He leans back against a rocky wall, laying his head on wet stones that form the rim.

The past week has been strange, he decides. The attack on the festival, the Yiga uprising, this grand fate shoved upon Zayn— everything happened in rapid succession. They barely had time to process the in-betweens, or sort out their heads, as he suspects they need to.

“What am I doing?” he asks the night skies above for an answer that never comes, obviously.

Two different Liams fight inside him. The first Liam, Zayn’s best mate, wants nothing more than helping and supporting his friend in these trying times. This Liam is young, naive, and passionate. He disregards social conventions and the world's cruelty, believing in happiness above all.

The second Liam, he's not an inch of naiveté. This older Liam, forged in the heat of the battlefield, has duties and his vows to his kingdom. He is but the King's blade, and shall smite any who dare threaten Hyrule. This Liam lives to protect Zayn’s life, at the cost of his own, if it need be. He follows orders and does it flawlessly.

Knight Liam wants to keep Zayn somewhere safe, and solve all this on his own. Best mate Liam enjoys and wants to be beside Zayn, aware that he's all Zayn currently has. Knight Liam puts duty over personal desires. Best mate Liam would spend every waking hour with Zayn.

Yet, Liam is unable to side with either of them. By siding with his knight self, he unavoidably hurts Zayn. He sticks with Zayn’s best mate, and he'll set himself up for hurt when it's all over.

So far, he's allowed himself to choose young Liam, nourishing fantasies and fairy tales fated to crush under the weight of responsibilities. And he can no longer be this reckless and thread on a road bound to doom.

 _Meditation. You need to meditate_ , he tells himself, waddling through the natural pool towards the tall cascade deeper in the bath. This one also pours hot water, though slightly colder. He hasn't expected it to be hot _hot_ , any ways, falling from such a high height.

Someone has had the same idea, as he meets a man underneath the waterfall. A skinny old man with the whitest and longest hair he's ever seen on a bald man.

There's plenty of room for both, and Liam isn't here to interrupt anyone's meditation, so he wraps himself in his towel and finds himself a spot.

“Troubled of mind, my child?”

Liam frowns, crossing his legs in lotus position. 99.9% of chance it's directed at him, but this time he'll remain quiet. To make sure this granddad has talked to him.

“Sometimes we may punish ourselves too much, believing we aren't worthy of good things,” the stranger goes on. “Focus on one battle at time, lest you're incapable of claiming any victories.”

Liam purses his lips in two thin lines. “I'll keep it in mind, Sir.”

For the remainder of his meditation, he empties his mind of his troubles. He becomes one with the water flow, no longer feeling it cascade down the nape of his neck. It should be impossible for this day to get any weirder, though, at this point, he fears tempting fate in the slightest.

Like returning to his room to find it empty.

 _Better double check first._ He checks under the bed, because this is Zayn he's talking about, but there's no one there. He's expected to find a mischievous smile, some kind of presence-erasing spell— anything other than an empty space.

There's no trace of Zayn’s presence in the entire inn, either. Pushing the radius of his perception field gets him nothing besides several foreign presences. Zayn has left the inn, and possibly Lurelin Village altogether. The only good news is that Navi has also disappeared, and with some luck, they're still together.

“Chessica? Hi, uhh...” he starts, suddenly confronted with the realisation he can't remember the name he's given her for the guestbook. “Have you seen my” —he lowers his voice to let the words come out— “ _wife_ anywhere?”

“Zenia?” Chessica lifts her eyes from pages scrawled with numbers, setting her abacus aside. “She was reading those magazines.” She gestures to a pile by the sofa near the entrance. “I reckon she'd be back in your room now, Lihaj.”

“Oh, she likes night strolls,” he lies, flashing an even less genuine smile. “Cheers. I'll go find her.”

The magazines in question are all gossip magazines. They speak of urban legends, and other low-credit discoveries that no one can confirm. Liam leafs through them to find anything remotely interesting to Zayn. Nothing. Given Chessica’s words, he'd thought Zayn spent some time reading, and nothing here looks appealing.

Except for a displaced traveller's guide.

He readily skims the table of contents. So many references to known places of interest over Termina. It mentions Hyrule’s festival, Zora’s Domain, and—more importantly—Lurelin Village.

“‘Lurelin the love of your life’.” He winces at the punny headline. “What even...”

Liam glances outside the window, and there he sees a scenery to match Tracy’s—the author of the article—descriptions. Towering over the west of Lurelin, and _“a good challenge for any climber worthy of their climbing gear.”_

Last Liam checked it, Zayn qualifies as _neither_.

It's one shadestep outside Fishing Resort, and a few more to get Liam across the village. He hops from rooftops till he's at the foot of the rocky mountain. A wooden sign displays climbing times with an instructor, who must be rightfully at home by now. On the bright side, two familiar presences at the top prompt Liam’s shoulders to loosen up and sag.

The way up takes no longer than reaching the mountain. A small jungle of palm trees awaits Liam at the top. There's nearly to no sign of people visiting this place, save for a barren trail leading deep into the vegetation.

_“He’ll be worried if we’re not back! We should be back!”_

Liam becomes one with the shadows, upon hearing Navi’s voice in the distance. He hops across the trees, reaching a stone meadow with a shallow pool of crystalline water. It reflects both the crescent moon and Navi's fairy glow.

Zayn picks a pebble, then casts it into the pond. “I reckon he's not keen on seeing my face right now.”

_Wait. What?_

“Have you two quarrelled when I wasn't looking? Friends quarrel sometimes!” Navi zooms circles around Zayn’s head. “You seem to get on well! Exceptionally well, even!”

Zayn scoffs. “When I'm not making him uncomfortable... which often happens, yeah?”

Liam gnaws on his bottom lip. Does Zayn think— That's not really— _Oh Goddess._ Liam may have been a bigger fool than originally intended. _Ready-for-make-up-and-a-cap-and-bells_ levels of fool.

Better reveal himself, and make it sound like genuine happenstance.

“There you are!” he exclaims, pretending to come out of the jungle behind him. He cringes at how tight Zayn’s grip on his wand becomes. “I've been looking for you everywhere. What happened?”

“Fancied doing some tourism.” Zayn points to the pond. “I never have time to see anything, you know.”

While not a complete lie, that's not his sole motivation, Liam is sure. But arguing would compromise his accidental eavesdropping, and so he accepts Zayn’s botched excuse. If only for appearances.

“Lover’s Pond! According to local legend, people come here to find true love!” Navi informs on her good, old rehearsed tone.

Liam takes the opportunity to lighten up the atmosphere.

“Looking for a lover, are we?” He elbows Zayn’s ribs. If he can get a smile, he'll sleep a little easier. “So, mate? Met anyone here, yet?”

Zayn stares at his feet, before declaring in an almost inaudible voice, even to their elf ears.

“...Only you.”

“W-We’re leaving early tomorrow!” Liam blurts out. Scooping Zayn up is much of a surprise to him as it is for Zayn and a small _“ whoa”_ he catches. “We should go now. Hold on tight.”

Before he can hop back to their room, Zayn teleports away, and then back again, throwing Liam over his shoulder.

“Zed—”

“It's faster this way,” Zayn replies, and next he's placing Liam down on Fishing Resort’s floorboards. “I'm going to have a bath.”

He teleports before Liam can tell him not to go, leaving a sluggish Navi behind.

“I'll get used to this way of transportation!” she half-grunts, taking maybe what's thrice her usual to take off. That she can keep her tone _somewhat_ upbeat is remarkable. “Don't even know where my stomach is!”

With Navi gone after Zayn, Liam is again by himself. The difference—that lets him breathe—is that he can tell Zayn’s exact location. Effortlessly, too. He can now rest. Which he does, falling back into a surprisingly soft mattress.

At least Chessica and Fishing Resort have made those 30 rupees the best he’s spent in his life. No, that’s isn't right. His best spent 30 rupees have allowed him to watch Zayn argue with goldfishes in a tank, and even bargain with them to catch one.

Impossible to recall such a scene with a straight face. He'll be honest; there _are_ times Zayn’s stubbornness is endearing. There's a certain charm to it, especially when it leads to success, and that boyish smirk of his shows up. But letting Zayn know would be dangerous (to himself, no less), and so he keeps it to himself, along with some sweet memories.

“I knew that was a bad idea!”

Liam cracks an eye open to Navi’s voice. She hovers at the centre of their room beside a drenched Zayn. Who happens to have only a tiny cloth pressed to be front, barely concealing his modesty.

“It was a good idea till the old man appeared,” Zayn corrects. His hair clings to his face, like a blindfold, and he only generally faces her. “Tha’ was _his_ bad idea; mine was fine.”

Pieces and bits fly here and there, but Liam gets the main point: Zayn scare cast a spell on some peeping Tom. Or, as Navi has eloquently put it, _“geysered some elder into space!”_

Where Liam gathers courage from, that he cannot tell. Just like he can’t tell when he shadesteps behind Zayn with a towel in hand. And since there's so much he doesn't know, he tries following whatever flow has brought him here.

“Can't save anyone with a cold, can you?” he asks, and it's even more rhetorical when he throws his towel over Zayn’s head. He presses it on different spots, then waits till Zayn faces him to lightly scrub it over damp, raven hair. “I let you alone for five minutes, and you're punishing the local perverted elderly.”

Zayn’s eyes are ample, and for a long minute he doesn't blink, scrutinising Liam’s face. The moment he does blink, it's only to engage in a stare contest. He searches for something, Liam supposes, though no idea what that would be.

"He shouldn't peek over the wall.” Zayn shrugs, lips pouting slightly. He always does this when convinced of his innocence. “He fell back in the bath. He's fine. Probably.”

It's almost certain that Navi excuses herself to rest in Liam’s pouch, but again, he can't be sure. He loses track of his surroundings whilst drying Zayn’s hair and listening to his tale. Maybe because he's relieved that Zayn talks to him again, and keeping things like this is his top priority.

And maybe it is. Because, the minutes to dry Zayn’s hair and dress him up stretch into hours of talking. They lie beside each other and just talk. About a lot of things that most of the time have no connection. If not for Chessica sending a bell boy with dinner, Liam supposes it would take them longer to realise how much time they've spent chatting.

After a generous—albeit bland meal—that's unlike anything either have tasted, they find themselves in bed, in a head-to-tails pattern of Liam’s choice. If he looks to his right, he's met with the _privileged_ view of Zayn’s ankles and heels.

“We're meeting Princess Mipha tomorrow,” Liam points out, for reasons he fails to understand. This is neither a topic for him, nor one he's willing to discuss. “Excited?”

Silence. Zayn doesn't reply, but he's not asleep either. And unless he's grown a pair of human ears (they're so poor of hearing), he's heard the question.

Liam snorts. “What? Shy now that we're seeing your future queen?”

It takes a bat of Liam’s eyelids for Zayn to pin his wrists and thighs down. In hindsight, he should've expected that teaching Zayn restraining techniques would eventually bite him in the arse.

“Don't say tha’ again,” Zayn warns, tone dry and harsh. “Told ya I _don't_ have a lover.”

That doesn't matter, however, does it? Whether there's love or not, the promise of marriage still links Zayn and the Zora Princess. Liam has joked about facts, and that in itself does not warrant him such a reaction.

Zayn leans in, their noses half an inch from contact. The ribbon tying his hair slides off, and silky locks fan over Liam’s right cheek.

“Feelings and duty are different things for _some_ of us.”

With this, he rolls off Liam, wordlessly. The implication of his words—and Liam can't tell their exact meaning—perhaps too aggressive to be considered ‘passive aggressive’ linger for a moment. Whatever talk they've had, this is clearly the end of it.

But they're both tired, and another long journey awaits at dawn. Better leave the matters of today to yesterday, and focus on what's to come.

Sighing, Liam flips on his side, facing the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wolfos: Species of monstrous wolf.
> 
> Keese: Species of one-eyed monstrous bat.
> 
> Lizalfos: Species of sword-wielding lizardman.
> 
> Gibdo: Walking mummies. Their gaze/shriek can paralyse a person for a few seconds.
> 
> Dast-e-toofan: Arms of Tempest.
> 
> Shabnam-e-rooh: Soul Dew.
> 
> Voe: 'Man' in Gerudo language.
> 
> * * *
> 
> I gave Cotera some traits from the Great Fairy from older games, like the fuchsia hair and her [dreaded laugh](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=62nMPw2vIrs). 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	4. Sunset

**IV**

As advertised, Chessica provides them a raft ride to the sea for their stay. She also advises them to visit the local market for shields, as Octorok shoot rocks at passing ships. The villagers' boats have been modified with safety nets, and no soul has used the old raft in a long while.

Something anyone could deduce by the tattered sail and worn out oars.

“I wish you two luck on your journey, Lihaj, Zeina,” Chessica tells them with her business smile. “Leave it by the shore, and a fisherman should bring it back.”

Liam unties the rope, and climbs aboard. At the end of the river stream the ocean awaits them. But first they need to sail down the river.

“Thank you for having us,” he tells her, pushing the raft away with the oar.

Their raft barely crosses half the lake, when shadows begin to tail it. Zayn shares a look with Liam. He's obviously noticed it, too.

“Three behind us... Five more ahead,” Liam confirms.

These creatures have little Mana, so it's hard for Zayn to get a precise read of them. He does have ears, though, and these tell him _something_ swims along their raft.

The first shot bores a large hole in the sail, as if it needed any more of those. Like, seriously. The bloody thing is ready to fall apart, and then they're under fire from these rock-spitting, floating octopuses.

Two more soar their direction, and this time Liam cuts the rocks in half. Zayn summons a whirlwind that splits in three, each pulling the octopuses back to the raft. Liam finishes them off with a single slash.

Even aquatic creatures have gone berserk. It’s the same as with the Bokoblins on the road here.

“ _Leeyum_... Wha’ in Hylia’s name are you doing?”

“She said to bring her some parts.” He holds up a purple, elastic sac the Octorok inflate to keep themselves airborne. “We don't have these yet,” he poaches the Octo Balloon into his pouch.

Great. Now that Cotera has validated his weird hobby, there's probably no stopping him from hoarding every weird shit they come across. And this comes from an expert in brewing potions, so it _is_ weird.

“Uhh... I reckon you're filling up that bag of yours today,” Zayn replies. Some metres ahead, five Octorok emerge from the waters in a chain formation.

#

“Oi! Stay awake!” Zayn presses his hands to the wound harder, pouring even more Mana into healing. The wound has closed, he's positive of much, yet, there's no change for the Zora guy. "Oi! Don't close your eyes!”

A gloved hand restrains Zayn’s hand by the wrist. He looks up to find Liam with a downcast look away from the injured Zora.

Liam shakes his head once, then squeezes Zayn's shoulder.

“It's too late for his flesh,” he says solemnly. He then proceeds to take his gauntlets off. His hands also carry something he pops from his pouch, and that Zayn cannot see from this angle.

“Cheers... this is.... a sick tune...” the Zora breathes out in puffs.

Whilst Liam plays the song, a peaceful smile spreads over the guy’s face. Zayn realises these must be his last moments, and asks the waning stranger's name. This way, he'll be able to tell a parent, a lover, or whoever is it that prays for this guy's safe return and that won't be answered from now on.

“Mikau.”

Zayn sandwiches Mikau’s hand between his. “You can rest now, Mikau.”

Although Mikau’s hand drops, his smile remains. He no longer walks among them.

Liam finishes his song as well, and then pulls Zayn into his chest, peppering his head in kisses. Too many lives cut short. And for what? Some lunatics’ obsession with a power that should never have existed in this realm.

“He's in a better place, babe,” Liam whispers into his hair. “You did great.”

_“Actually, not yet, my dudes.”_

Liam promptly draws his sword, however the only thing in sight is a pink orb of light.

_“I didn't thank you for sending me off.”_

Liam looks at Zayn for help. “That's—”

_“The one and only Mikau!”_

The orb hovers close to them. In a way, his spirit resembles Navi. A little more wingless, and a lot more colourful.

_“Y’all bound to the Water Temple, right? That won't be easy for ya, my scale-less buddies.”_

For somebody who has just passed away, this guy sure is _talkative_. Hard to believe it’s the same waning person from a moment ago.

_“Take my fins to Lady Mija. She'll craft you something rad to help!”_

The implications don't go over Zayn’s head.

“Are you telling him—” he points to Liam, then to the light “—to _scavenge_ you?”

_“They're not attached. Just pry them off.”_

“That's not the issue here, uh, _my dude_ ,” Zayn retorts.

After (justified) hesitation, Liam obliges. The two large fins sprouting from Mikau’s forearms come off, and they're surprisingly sturdy and sharp. Almost like _blades_.

_“Help save this land, my dudes.”_

The light fades, taking Mikau’s voice with it. Time for a quick burial. Stones, wood and vines make for a modest memorial. This kind of scenario has become too common. The first thing they encounter reaching solid ground is a dying Zora. Zayn sighs.

They're faced with three options. Head to Zora’s Domain and find out what's happening; Heed Mikau’s (posthumous) words and find one of the Great Fairy sisters; or follow the map to the location of the Water Temple in the sea.

But to reach King Dorephan’s Castle, they must climb up the roaring waterfall that serves as a natural gate. Or, in the case of every Zora that has come of age, swim it up.

“Swim—” Liam makes whooshing noises, and worm-like movements with his right hand“—upwards?”

He stares at Zayn as if he's been asked to transmute coal into gold. And honestly, it comes close to Zayn's own reaction the first time visiting Mipha and her people.

“We came unannounced,” Zayn points out. “They have a chariot bubble waiting when we arrive. It's weird, to be honest?”

Analysis of other cultures will take them nowhere, hence a brainstorming session begins. The rocks are too slippery for either to climb safely. The waterfall height is another problem: it's hard to estimate safe teleport coordinates from the ground. Sure, he can overshoot, but then, it's a nasty fall for both.

They’ve run into a deadlock. Zayn sees no other solution that doesn't imply gravely injury and potential death. Unlike Liam.

“Get ready to chuck us up the highest you can,” he says, then... r _uns off._

Simply gets up and leaves, disappearing with Navi towards the beach. Guess they don't make knights like they used to?

Either way, there's little to do besides waiting, and waiting Zayn does. He can't say he expects an empty-handed Liam to return, with all the urgency of a moment ago, but at least Liam has returned.

Liam smiles. “Ready when you are,” he says.

Which implies readiness on Zayn’s end, when it's the opposite of this little _oomph_ to escape Zayn.

“Warn me first,” he hisses, clinging closer to Liam’s chest, and avoiding kicking his feet. He doesn't mind much getting carried, but a little warning before the ground disappears from under his feet is nice. “I'm not a sack of potatoes.”

“I know. Potatoes don't complain.” Liam grins. “You'd be a cute potato, though.”

 _Wanker. B_ ut whether he's in a better mood or pretending to be, there's familiarity back to his actions and speech, and for this Zayn is grateful.

And a little bit less upon learning about Liam’s plan mid-fall. Liam’s only words are “Hold on tight” before a strange contraption of cloth unfurls from his back taking them even higher. Only for an instant, though, as soon they descend in a slow fall.

Zayn plucks enough courage to loosen his hold on Liam’s neck. The view, if he's honest, isn't like anything he's seen before. The early morning sun bathes the coast in gold, making the sea shimmer. It's the promise of a new day ahead of them, to all of Termina. Almost as if these lands reassured him of better times to come.

“I'm sorry for last night,” Liam eventually says. “Wasn't trying to rile you up.”

His voice is soft—softer than usual—and his stare remains ahead, on the horizon. The morning sun turns the red of his eyes in a more coppery tone, almost like bronze. And maybe Zayn shouldn't be surprised, but he can't not admire how good of a painting this moment would give.

An awe-inspiring, breathtaking painting.

“Zed?”

How long has Liam stared back? Zayn has no clue. The only thing he's sure of is that he's been silent way too long to earn such a prominent frown.

“Wha’ did you say?” He lowers his gaze to his wand clasped in his left hand. “I... spaced out a bit.”

Liam laughs. “More than a bit, if you didn't get to hear anything.”

“I got distracted by... the view.”

“Well I had something rehearsed and cool, but now I can't do it again.” Liam twists his mouth. “I just wanted to say I'm here because I want to. Not just 'cos your dad ordered me to.”

Zayn perks up. “So you're saying you obey no king. That's wha’ you're telling me.”

“Wanna make me get stripped of my title, don't you?”

“Like you need help getting stripped,” he counters, smirking.

By the time of their landing, the scarlet in Liam’s ears gets mixed with the one within his eyes. For some reason—and here Zayn guesses auto preservation—he'd forgotten about how he'd randomly strip naked till the age of five. As soon as Ifra took her eyes off them he'd take his shorts, pants, nappy off.

“Come. There's people in that direction,” Liam rushes out. His urgency in relaying Mikau’s message might not relate as much to his sense of duty, if Zayn had to guess it.

Granted, it doesn't take long to reach Lanayru Spring. The Lake Hylia that extends larger than Hyrule’s Castle marks the entrance to the Zora Kingdom. Here, the roaring of water doesn't reach their ears as mightily.

“Soldiers of Zora’s Domain, we have urgent affairs to discuss,” Zayn announces, taking a step closer to the water. “I, Prince Zayn of Hyrule, request an audience with your king, King Dorephan.”

A moment of relative silence passes before two shadows shoot high from the water. On each side of Zayn, a 10-feet Zora yielding a trident kneels down. Liam answers to it by getting on one knee as well.

“We have awaited you, Hylian prince,” the navy scaled one says, head still bowed. “Please, follow us.”

The jet coloured one prickles the surface of the lake with his spear. He swirls water till a room-sized bubble shapes up. Both Zora guards turn to face each other, their spears crossing between them before thumping their weapons to the ground.

“If you may, Prince Zayn,” the shorter one of blue scales instructs.

Followed by Liam, Zayn gets aboard the bubble. The Zora's control over water never ceases to impress, no matter how many times he witnesses it. His own affinity with water magic isn't bad, but whereas his ability comes from extensive training, for a Zora it's second nature, almost like breathing.

It hurts a bit to admit it, but any toddler here can do what Zayn can.

Their carriage descends more and more, to the depths where sunlight barely reaches. This part always kicks ripples of vertigo in Zayn's stomach. It seems that experiencing this other times isn't enough to conquer his apprehension.

_Hey. Look at me. Everything's fine, all right?_

Zayn cracks an eye open, unsure of the exact moment he's closed them. Against his fingertips, rough skin taps rhythmically, and if he focuses long enough, he can read a song in it. The discreet spec of a smirk on the corner of Liam's mouth pretty much confirms it.

_Cheers, babe. I'm fine with water that stays at neck level._

_When this is all over, I'm teaching you to dive. You're gonna love it._

Zayn bites back a small smile. Learning under Liam doesn't sound half bad. Liam's always patient and gives you full attention when explaining something. But more than anything, the idea comes from Liam himself, reason why Zayn's ears _buzz_ in the silence of dark waters.

_I love **any** time I spend with you._

Liam's fingertips are gone the next instant, and Zayn's stomach drops like his own hand. Except that it might relate to their bubble ascending towards some light.

Zayn still tries searching for something in Liam's eyes, but all he gets is the usual knightley frown and steely expression. This continuous switching between the Liam he once knew and the knight tasked with his life _drains_ him.

A well-lit cave awaits them above the water surface, as well as clean, fresh air. The Zora guards step out first, replicating their intricate ritual from before. They make way for an elderly Zora Zayn's familiar with, save for the man’s defeated air.

“Your presence here is a Goddess-sent,” the Zora with a large manta ray head says, putting his hands together and offering a slight bow. “I apologise for the poor reception, Prince Zayn.”

“Do not trouble yourself with those, for I'm the one who comes unannounced, Muzu.” Zayn replies, returning the gesture. He points to Liam, who readily mimics their greeting. “This is the best knight in Hyrule, and my companion in this sudden journey.”

Muzu greets Liam back. “A healthy dose of precaution does well during these times, my Prince.”

Zayn frowns. “‘These times’?”

The old Zora’s eyes grow wide, and the gills on his neck visibly pick up pace, expanding and contracting.

“Let us head to the palace and everything shall become clear,” he says, then claps twice.

A sole guard emerges to scout them, whom Liam joins as reinforcements. The ones to bring them here stay at the port, guarding the cave entrance.

Muzu remains resolute in keeping the current situation secret, showing no signs of changing it soon. Though it's not difficult to deduce it relates to the deserted streets on Zora's domain.

_Noticed that?_

Zayn catches Liam's side glance.

_I don't suppose you're speaking of this weird Mana flow._

Liam's voice snorts in his head.

 _I sense more Zora... But they're all weaker than this old man.  
_ _I don't really think **everyone** here is elderly._

If Liam's instincts say this, then Zayn trusts them. All he can say is that he picks some... _static_ in the Mana here. An undisturbed flow is like a river— steady and mostly uniform. It's also how he remembers his last visit here.

This time, however, the magic flow resembles more like a poorly made stew. Some chunks are reasonably sized, but others are too large. And for the most part it's diluted in something else.

The closer they are to the palace, the stronger their suspicions become. No one in the streets. Windows and doors covered in frost. Even at the gates of the palace they find a sole soldier, whereas Zayn remembers one _pair_ on each side of the door, and then six more atop the towers.

“I bring you the Hylian Prince, just as you've predicted, Your Highness,” Muzu announces their arrival.

Zayn expects Mipha to greet them, but instead receives a surprise hug from a desolate Sidon.

“I knew you'd come, brother!” Sidon cries, hugging Zayn's torso in a vice grip. “I knew you would!”

Zayn freezes up. What's he supposed to do? He doesn't know what happened, nor why Sidon clings to him so desperately. They've never been this close before, and to start now, out of the blue, is completely—

“We’ll do our best to help, if you take time to explain it, Your Highness.”

Liam's voice snaps Zayn from his daze, and he readily holds Sidon at arm's length. He doesn't miss how Liam's jaw clenches, and can only hope Sidon and Muzu do.

Sidon wipes a furious hand over his eyes. “Who are you who dares tell a prince what to do?”

“My personal knight,” Zayn replies instead, in his mind asking Liam to let him handle it. “And he would never defy your authority; We're here to help you.”

 _Good Goddess_. Bile rises to Zayn’s throat for using such a honey-dipped voice with Sidon. In part because he's aware of the guy's not-so-subtle glances, but also because he can hear Liam's jaws tighten. He doesn't need another misunderstanding, when they're still going through a few others.

“I'll tell you everything I know,” Sidon replies, once he's done glaring at Liam.

Sidon’s version of events are the glue to put together the fractured facts in their hands. He speaks of a red-eyed spellcaster kidnapping Mipha, and some unknown malady spreading through the kingdom. Few have escaped it, including himself, Muzu, and a few soldiers.

They've also dispatched a messenger to Hyrule in hopes of obtaining support, because defending all of Zora's domain with four soldiers is unfeasible.

“I thank Hylia our messenger reached you in time!” Sidon beams. “Is he not with you?”

 _Messenger?_ Zayn’s mind goes back to a certain trident in Liam's bag. His heart constricts. He doesn't need a glance at Liam's direction to confirm they share their suspicions. Especially not when he finds said trident handed to him.

He takes a deep breath.

“I request a visit to Mikau’s father.”

Nothing prepares them for the scene to come. In one of the smaller houses, they find a shivering, bedridden Zora of long whiskers. The old man breathes in puffs, shallow and quick, and even speech seems to put too much strain on his body.

It's too much for Zayn. His face seeks shelter from it, and they find it in Liam's chest. He can't do this. He can't tell a moribund man his son has died trying to get help, and now that ‘help’ is here, they're useless.

“Excuse us for a moment, Your Highness,” Liam tells Sidon and the soldier.

What happens next is a blur. All Zayn knows is that he finds the two of them atop some building across the city. Callous hands sandwich his face, and he now stares at sympathetic, scarlet eyes through a blur.

“A bit too familiar, wasn't it?”

Zayn nods. Because, yeah. Hyrule may be all stone now, but at least they're not visibly suffering, waning like the Zora. The hopelessness of not undoing it with his magic remains the same, though.

“There's death everywhere I go, _Leeyum_. All this talk— all these prophecies and I keep watching people suffer,” he whispers, and his voice comes out croaked and about to break. He hates how it sounds, and how it grates at his ears, reminding him of his weakness. “Am I... cursed? Is tha’ why—”

“You think I'm cursed?” Liam asks back. His tone is even, and nothing about his instance hints at an accusation. “I let those forest toddlers die. Mum and Dad died because of me. I must be cursed.”

Zayn readily reaches his hands between Liam's arms and holds his face in return. He shakes his head profusely, fighting the pickling in his eyes. No, he doesn't believe—nor ever did for a second in his entire life—Liam carries any curse. If Liam is cursed, it'd be with this enormous heart of his.

“Don't say tha’!” he huffs, pinching Liam's cheek hard. “It breaks me to hear you say tha’!”

In a turn of events, Liam pinches Zayn’s cheek back, just as hard. If not harder, because the randomness of it stuns Zayn into staring at him.

“And how do you suppose I feel?”

 _Oh._ The prickling in Zayn's eyes increases at the pace their visibility decreases. He buries his face in the crook of Liam's neck and abandons himself there. He's allowed to let the tears roll free, for Liam tells him so, embracing him.

It's a moment or two till no more tears threaten to pour. They sit down against a wall, watching the skyline in the horizon. Despite lacking a moon in their sky, which is in reality a charmed ceiling, the lights in Zora's Domain rival the stars outside.

Zayn props his head on Liam's shoulder, and smiles when two fingers promptly scratch at his scalp. They should have gone back by now, but these little moments are far and in between for him to abdicate of them easily.

“Feeling better?” Liam asks, dropping his hand.

Although the loss of contact dismays Zayn, he's more than pleased that Liam's hand seeks his.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I guess it got too much for me.”

“Most people wouldn't take half of what we've seen these past days,” Liam corrects. “We're all flesh and blood here.”

Zayn smirks. “ _Muscle and blood,_ in your case.”

Liam swats the hand to sneakily squeeze his triceps, already giggling. “Feeling cheeky, aren't we?”

They giggle like schoolkids, eventually falling into a comfortable silence. Zayn isn't sure how much he's allowed this, but he tries to lace their fingers together. That's how much at ease he is near Liam. Since Liam already holds his hand, maybe changing the angle won't be so bad?

To his pleasant surprise, Liam does not pull back, and even squeezes His hand back. Their heads remain against each other’s, so that's all the encouragement he needs.

“How did your Dad die?” The question comes out partially influenced by Liam's own words before. They've talked about him before, but all Zayn knows is that Liam's dad was a Sheikah warrior, who’s also dead. “If you don't mind me asking, I mean. I'm just... curious.”

There's a pregnant pause till some humming reaches Zayn's pointy ears.

“Have you heard of Lynels before?”

Zayn hums in response. He's acquainted with the basics, he supposes. Half horse, half beastman, Lynels are the deadliest creatures to roam Termina. Speed, strength, and inert intelligence to forge their own weaponry. Lynels have no known natural predator, either, though the thought of something that can prey on such a monster isn't all that comforting. Little has been recorded in books because a first encounter with a Lynel is often the last.

“They've come in different colours, like blue, white and silver,” Liam carries on. “But there's one that's rare even for them.”

What Liam reveals isn’t in any book Zayn has ever read. A Lynel the colour of gold that feeds on other Lynels? Unprecedented. Almost as fantastical as receiving a mission from a sand ghost in a secret dungeon, he supposes.

That's one of the things Zayn hopes to achieve through the Sheikah-Hylian alliance his dad has worked on: access to a Sheikah library. Whenever he thinks about the occult history held in their books, it's not an exaggeration to say he _salivates_.

“So... There's a stronger version of the strong version of the strongest creature on this earth out there?”

Liam nods. “Basically.”

“And you want to fight it?”

Liam nods again, and hums.

“Wha’ makes you think I'll let you do tha’?”

“Because—” Liam squeezes Zayn’s hand “—it's the only way to repay the life they gave me.”

Zayn teleports in front of Liam, knelt down. He hugs Liam's head to his chest,

and rests his chin against buzzed hair.

“I won't say I won't try to stop you, but I know it's important to you...” He kisses Liam's head. “When time comes, I'll protect you. This, I can promise you.”

Muffled sniffles against his tunic only cause Zayn to hug Liam tighter. It's not his intention to make Liam cry, though he can also tell these aren't exactly tears of sadness.

Maybe it's the chanted _“thank you”_ caught in between shaky breaths and even open wailing.

“I'll protect you, _Leeyum_ ,” he repeats.

#

True to Mikau’s directions, Cotera’s sister fountain rests atop the Lanayru Spring. Like her sister, Mija is thrilled about visitors, and doesn't shy away from flirting with Liam.

Zayn's pretty sure that, had he not interrupted her, she would have invited Liam into her pond. Bold much? Though, he's forced to hand it to her— not everyone can be as straightforward.

With her lilac hair and purple lipstick, Mija, works her magic on Mikau's fins, and forges a boomerang for them. For _Liam_ , specifically.

“I'd offer more, but this is the extent of my abilities,” she laments, handing back Liam's shield and sword, both enhanced with the Octorok parts. “My regards to my sis!”

“We're not deserving of your generosity, Milady!” Navi replies.

 _Nor do we deserve your flirting, and yet..._ Still, Zayn does thank her. It's only fair and the right thing to do. Liam's equipment does seem sturdier, so he thanks her for making it a little easier to keep Liam safe. That's where he draws the line, and drags Liam away with him.

“She's so friendly,” Liam says. He twirls his sword. He pats it against his hand, weighing it, then sheaths it. “A very lovely lady.”

“ _Very_ lovely, indeed. _Too_ lovely.” Zayn snorts. “Those are not the words, but... whatever.”

Liam cocks an eyebrow. “Anything wrong?”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

Thankfully, Liam doesn't push it. His furrowed brow shows he's not convinced, but it doesn’t matter. To be fair, Zayn isn't convinced, either. And it happens to be his own words.

That he forgets the instant Liam starts undressing right before his eyes.

First, the tunic is gone. Then, it's the chain mail, and finally he goes for his vest. Reaches for the bottom hem, hugging himself, then starts to peel it off. Zayn can't help the small, sharp intake of breath when his eyes follow a certain trail of dark hair below Liam's navel.

“Wha’ you're doing?!” He doesn't intend it to come out this high-pitched, but there’s nothing he can do about it now. Except for pretending it's come out in his usual tone.

Liam turns around, and his position is hilarious, really. The vest has ridden up to his ears, so his eyebrows are hidden from view. The V-neck also pulls at his brow, so he's left squinting, trying to escape his fabric prison.

“Undressing?”

And yeah, Zayn can see that. Oh, _believe_ that he can see that. Not what he really means, as he's curious to why the sudden need to take it all off.

Zayn swallows a lump in his throat. “Wha’ for, I mean?”

“Swimming?” Liam finishes taking the vest off, and Zayn wishes he hadn't because then his pecs do a little bounce. “The layers will slow me down.”

Liam goes for his belt, and Zayn curses his own idiocy. But they've already agreed on Liam using the Zora Armour lent to them to open the Water Temple. Nothing else he can do about it.

Fortunately, Liam stops at his underpants. _Boxers_ , if Zayn remembers it correctly. They hug Liam’s thighs tighter than any Hylian underwear, and are generally shorter. Way shorter. These leave little to imagination, even though Zayn supposes he's seen everything already.

Liam finishes slipping the armour on. Like the Zora themselves, it overflows with Nayru magic. The helmet evokes the same shape of Mipha’s and Sidon’s heads, and there’s no doubt it's her own work.

“She's crafty, your future Queen,” Liam says, stretching his arms behind his back. The flexible material lets him move freely. “I doubt she’ll enjoy that I'm the one wearing it, though.”

These words punch the air out of Zayn's lungs. He blinks himself out of his daze to stare at Liam's suddenly serious face. Not again. They're not doing this again, and not when they’ve shared a nice moment a few hours prior.

He teleports in front of Liam, cupping Liam's face.

“What is mine is also yours,” he says. And maybe it doesn't make much sense to Liam, or even to himself. Yeah, he's positive about sounding half barmy now. He needs to say something coherent. “What's some armour, when I trust you with my life, yeah?”

Which... isn't this. At all. _Fuck_.

“Just swim to that rock formation and dive to find the temple’s entrance!”

They both stumble backwards and apart, upon Navi’s sudden appearance between their faces. She flutters to Zayn, perching herself on his shoulder with the tinker of tiny bells.

“Open it, and a path for us should open, too!” she adds in her usual excitement.

Liam glances at Zayn, then sighs. “You're going to kill us all one day.”

She only tinkers more. “I'm here to ensure that doesn't happen!”

Her confidence when she says it... _Goddess_. Zayn can't tell if it's something he should envy or pity. Either she's the embodiment of self-confidence, or just blissfully oblivious to her jump scare tendencies.

“Wait for me,” Liam says, then vanishes and a large splash breaks the sea surface.

Zayn inches closer to the shore, dipping his feet in cold water.

“I still do,” he whispers to the ocean.

#

Underwater, the Zora Armour is a complete new beast, Liam finds out. There's no need for him to hold his breath, for an air bubble envelopes his mouth and nose. Unlike the usual swimming, he doesn't feel like he's wrestling against water; instead, he slips through it, almost as if water himself. Speed is a non-issue, as well. He can dive at top speed and the pressure in his ears and body remains unchanged.

Even Zayn could easily dive with this bad boy on. The Zora Princess really got it right with her choice for a present. And when he thinks she has created this herself, he can't think of any ways he could find a better wedding gift for Zayn.

No matter. He's to focus on his task, right now.

The depths where the Water Temple lies are but a step away at this speed. Easy to tell, seeing whirlpools that swallow the entrance to a tower.

_Found anything?_

“There's crazy fast water blocking the way,” he replies out loud. “I'll try to cut through.”

_Don't try anything dangerous, Leeyum._

Liam unsheathes his sword, admired with how easy it is to move out underwater. The same for his shield. Mija’s work has more than paid itself, and he hasn't paid a thing to begin with.

_I Won't. You say it like you don't know me._

_It's exactly ‘cos I know you tha’ I say this._

Would have hurt if not true, but he cannot deny it. Especially whilst he prepares to force his access to the gates.

But whether he heeds Zayn's words or not, a faint presence lunges at him from the dark, barely missing his sword arm.

_Babe? Ask Navi what she knows about invisible man-eating thingy._

_Leeyum, wha’—_

Again, Liam dodges. Again, he nearly loses a limb. This creature can erase its presence at will, and the instant he senses its bloodlust is right before the attack. His eyes see nothing in the water, so it’s nothing visible.

If he can’t see it, he’ll just need somebody to see it for him.

“Nightshade Arts,” he holds his sword in a downwards diagonal, “Rising Bloom!”

Water rises, following the helical slashes Liam unleashes around himself.

_Gyorg, the Gargantuan Masked Fish._

Liam halts. Zayn’s tone has grown monotonous, as if reading a script. He doesn’t expect Navi to be able to reach him, but neither had he anticipated Zayn filling her role. Clearly begrudgingly.

_Unbeatable on water, it’s mastered assassination techniques. Careful of it’s sharp fangs._

_Uhh… thank Navi for me._

Once Liam learns he can launch the enemy, the battle has been decided. Gyorg returns to water only once. Liam unleashes the same area of effect technique, and then leaps out of water himself.

Mid-air, his foe reveals itself. A monstrous Piranha with two arms and some bone structure around its head. Sword held out, Liam meets a descending Gyorg. His speed and gravity take care of the rest, as he splits the flopping monster in two. A diamond-shaped stone plops into his hand.

Back underwater, the whirlpools vanish when the new stone shines. Liam swims to a pedestal in the same shape and size, and fits the azure stone in. Nothing happens. He taps the coral panel, but still no sign of change. Thankfully, it works before he kicks it.

The runway connecting the entrance to nowhere ascends, but fractured. The first bit goes a little higher than the floor he stands on, and the second bout even higher than the first.

Piece by piece, a long stairway of stone shapes up and the sea splits open around it.

_The ocean... opened?_

“There's a long stairway. I'm at the bottom.” Liam takes off his helmet, sniffing the air. Although it smells of seawater, it's air, all right. They can breathe here. “I can breathe, too.”

It doesn't take long before he catches Zayn's figure at the top of the staircase, and then— _literally_ —catches him into his arms with a spin.

“Quick thinking,” Zayn says, laughing. For a moment it doesn't seem like he's dropped on Liam without a warning. “How did you know?”

Liam sighs. “No way you're climbing that down without complaining.”

“Well, the next gem awaits!” Navi pops out of his pouch. “Let's proceed!”

Liam lowers Zayn’s hand before it even tries to reach her. He wonders how much Navi grasps the whole _risking-our-lives-daily_ situation. So far, he can't say it's much. And sometimes he has to agree that she does do it on purpose.

With the diamond stone off the pedestal, the large double doors begin to close. They rush inside to find a mix of: rustic and polished architecture just like Zora's domain. Enemies appear already by the entrance, a species of shelled Octorok resistant to arrows and slashing. Troublesome, though nothing lightning strikes can't fry.

It's in the second room that their first challenge greets them.

Navi circles the large metal structure with large paddles attached to its axis. She flies above grid platforms Northeast of the entrance, searching for anything to help their progress.

“There's a weird crystal stone up there!” she reports, landing on Zayn's palm. “It doesn't seem like I can activate it!”

Zayn nods to Liam, turning his attention back to her. “Reckon I can reach it?”

“I doubt it!” she says. The fact that there's zero hesitation in her voice, causes Liam's stomach to drop a bit. “There's not enough room for you! You'll get stuck in the wall if you use magic!”

Whilst the two discuss possible solutions, Liam glances over the edge of the platform. Below, water fills the room. He can see the bottom, but it's hard to estimate depth from here. The room is clearly taller than it's wider, though he can't tell to what extent.

In front of them, there’s this massive axis with equally large cogs on it. His best guess would be it connects ceiling to floor. It reminds him of Lars’ engines, if only in stupid large scale.

“I think I have an idea,” he finally says, to which Zayn and Navi go silent. He makes a dipping motion with his forefinger, then raises it above his head. “I'll dive and—” he makes a _swoosh_ noise “—get out water to shoot the thingy.”

Zayn blinks in absolute silence. Navi doesn't have a face to tell if she judges his suggestion, but her uncharacteristic silence doesn't inspire confidence.

“Too silly?” he asks, already bracing himself for their answer. If too reckless, Zayn will chew him for _even_ suggesting it. “I mean, it worked before?”

The scolding never comes, and instead he opens his eyes to too hard pinches to his cheeks.

“Don't get used to me enabling your stunts,” Zayn warns, both eyebrows arched up. His features soften, and his face blossoms into a smile. “It's crazy enough that it could actually work.”

Liam rubs the afflicted areas, grinning wide. “Got it, Your Highness.”

They proceed just like Liam suggests. Navi flies over to the crystal location to serve as a sign. Zayn gets ready to intervene if anything goes wrong, or the jump gets too dangerous. And finally, Liam slips the Zora helmet back on and dives into the water full-speed.

Turns out the room is indeed deeper than he'd perceived. It makes no difference for the armour speed wise, and perhaps it even helps him build more momentum. As he reaches the bottom floor of the flooded room, he barrel rolls over and kicks the floor to push himself again.

Insane speed casts Liam in the air, much higher than water level. He locates Navi hovering by a corner. Below her, there's a watermelon sized crystal embedded into the wall. He pops out his boomerang, and as gravity halts his momentum, he throws it.

The boomerang flies an arc between him and the device, and upon hitting it, a blue glow fills the room. Unfortunately for him, that puts the room's axis to motion, and with its rotation the water level begins to fall _drastically_.

“Shit!”

Liam catches his boomerang on its trajectory back to him. He's got the switch. Now what? Half the water he's counted on has drained. He’ll be lucky to find even a foot left, in fact. He could zigzag climb down from a wall and the central axis, but not without his Pegasus Boots. Plus, the bloody thing started spinning.

“ _Leeyum!_ ”

But Liam doesn't reply. At best, one of the propellers beheads him and luckily departs painlessly and at once. At worst, he gets mangled and savours a long fall to his end. Neither sound too comforting, and the prospect of Zayn watching it only makes it worse. And he’d counted on Zayn using water to cushion the fall, but now the water is mostly gone.

_Don't look! Take this and save everyone!_

It's the last thing he sends on their link, before chucking his pouch to Zayn. Such a useful magical artefact shouldn't go with him to the grave. And secretly he'd prefer Zayn just kept a memento of him that's more than a memory of how his recklessness finally got him buried.

Eyes closed, Liam plummets to the premature end of his journey. So much for grandiose promises of protecting Zayn. He's sure that if given a chance, Zayn would tell him off.

_“Quit scaring me like tha’, you doughnut!”_

Yeah, it’d probably go like this.

“I swear to Goddess, _Leeyum_! You're bad for my heart!”

 _Definitely_ like this. Including the hard pinch to his cheek.

_“He might have passed out from shock!”_

Well, he can't say Navi would be there. _Wait._

Liam opens his eyes, and... he's in one piece. A bit sore, but in one piece. It doesn't hurt as much as he'd think a fall to death would. Also, the bottom floor is so much softer under his chin, not to mention _warm_.

“He's awake!”

The familiar tinker catches Liam's attention, and yeah that's Navi right before his nose. She flies away, and then he's face to face with an angry scowl.

“Zed? What—” he pushes himself off Zayn's chest, glancing around. He's back at the entrance of the room. “I was—”

The air gets knocked out of his lungs by the soft touch of Zayn's lips on his. There's no trace of the anger he's seen in Zayn's eyes. They do carry a sweeping relief that spreads into his mouth, shutting his brain off.

Zayn pulls away slowly, his lips never really leaving.

“I can't afford to lose you, too,” he whispers. Each syllable only has their lips brush together. “Regaining everything doesn't mean a thing without ya.”

This time, when Zayn tries to close the flimsy gap between them, Liam turns his face. He's been caught in the moment, but now his brain works again, and this can’t be appropriate.

“How did you—?” He clears his throat, pushing himself up, and then pulling Zayn with him. “I thought thou needed to touch things.”

Zayn shrugs. Even facing away, it's clear what his frantic hand movement does on his face.

“I wished I could catch you... You fell in my arms,” he replies. “Not too sure myself.”

“It's saved your behind, and that's all that matters!” Navi beams, flying in her usual excited pattern. “Let's get to the bottom of this shaft and explore this temple!”

Zayn groans. “Don't use ‘shaft' ever again. _Please_.”

Once their latest scare mellows out, they proceed through a door at the bottom of the Southwest wall. The next rooms aren't too different from the previous one, except for more accessible switches—that Liam can safely activate with his boomerang—and a few enemies.

Getting through the temple as a Zora is simple. Prince Sidon’s words haven't been just about Gryog, it seems. The room with an altar seems pretty final, so at least they've reached out without any more issues. If Liam is to ignore that Zayn hasn't looked him in the eyes since the first room.

“Let's go—”

Zayn pinches Navi's wings. “Wait. There's something different about the water here.”

The water in question extends across the room as a solid carpet, occasionally sprouting from under the grid floor under their soles. The temperature here doesn’t fall much more than the rest of the temple, but there’s no doubt that ice crunches under Liam’s sabatons.

“Yeah, it’s frozen,” he replies, to which Zayn retaliates with a slap to the back of his hand. “That’s true, though!”

What Zayn means—and here he has trouble explaining himself—is that something feels _off_. He senses powerful magic, but it’s also diffused all over the room and not easily perceived. To put it in perspective, it’s similar to grinding a nut and scattering it across a room. The nut is still there, even if you can’t notice the dust right away.

“Let's just grab the stone and be on our way, then!” Navi proposes, already slipping through Zayn's fingers towards the altar.

As she closes in on the pedestal a water tentacle bursts through the frozen floor, capturing her.

“Diamond dust.” Zayn closes a fist in her direction, bidding the water to freeze up and shatter into tiny shards.

Liam shadesteps to her rescue, then back to Zayn's side. Navi’s speech comes out slurred, but otherwise she shows no signs of injury.

“I told you there's something weird with this room!” Zayn tells her, gradually restoring her temperature with a heating spell.

“Take care of her.” Liam arms himself with his sword and shield with a single motion. “I'm gonna lure it.”

No need, as a geyser shoots from the crack just open. All ice in the room begins to melt, and the resulting water converges in a single, floating bubble just before the altar. It twists and spirals till it becomes a cow-sized hand.

Zayn begins to gag, coughing non-stop.

“What's this foul smell?!” He gulps some air. “This thing is rotten!”

But for Liam nothing has changed, except for the ice that's gone. Granted, his sensibility to magic is none, so he’s no reference for this kind of situation. What he needs to know is the enemy’s location.

The watery hand attacks first. From each digit, it shoots a torrent of water. Liam dodges the first three, chops in half the fourth, and swims through the last one. Up close to the monster, he unleashes a four-cut slash. The shredded hand falls apart into a lifeless puddle.

“Did I get it?” he asks over his shoulder.

Zayn closes his eyes briefly. “It doesn't reek as badly... it's not gone, I don't think.”

Liam's first idea is to use his other senses to locate it. His nose and eyes won't help find water in a tank full of it. He'll listen for any small sound, feel any vibration. This will make his time response slower, but his goal here is to predict the hand’s next movement.

 _Block it out. Block everything out._ He exhales, first erasing Zayn's and Navi's presences from his perception. Next, he erases his own. He no longer exists in the room; he's become one with it. He has no vessel to his form. He's the air and the water to occupy this room. He _is_ the _room_.

 _There._ Liam shadesteps to Zayn, chopping two icicles shot at him. Although he predicts them correctly, he fails to get a third one that he finds lodged into his shoulder. It'll take time to perfect this technique, and that water thing will spare him such luxury.

“[Frozen Jewel.]"

Liam watches an ice pyramid crush an apple-like sphere against the ceiling, as he stumbles backwards. The impact against the grid floor never comes, and instead he finds himself staring at panicky whiskey eyes.

" _Leeyum!_ ” Zayn shrieks. “Oh goddess! Why you're always—”

Liam stills the frantic hands with a soft squeeze. “Save the first-aid for later,” he says. Prying the ice out will increase the bleeding, so for now he's letting it in, only chopping off most of the length. “I promise I'll ask for help.”

Although he chews on his bottom lip, Zayn helps him stand again.

“If we survive this one, I swear I'll paste you!”

“Thought you were trying to heal me?”

Zayn huffs. “After I knock some sense into this thick skull of yours, yeah.”

Well, Liam will prepare for punishment later. He’s still wounded, so Zayn won't be as harsh as he says he will. _Hopefully_. First, they hunt that thing down.

“Soul River Bind.”

Water tentacles shoot and restrain the red sphere like a Skulltula’s cobweb. The capture works at first, but then the binds dissolve and a thick wrapper encases the red orb. Zayn tries again, and now the water doesn't move to his bidding at all.

“Morpha...” Navi tinkles meekly, flapping its wings. “It has absolute control of water... Attacks to its pseudo body are ineffective… Aim for its core.”

Absorbing Zayn’s ice magic, Morpha retaliates with a barrage of whip lashes. Liam parries, and counters, but his blade fails to reach the red nucleus. Despite being mostly water, Morpha’s body is viscous, like a Sluggula’s.

“Didn’t take the ‘absolute’ bit as a joke, but tha’ is ridiculous!” Zayn risks a peek from behind one of the pillars in the room. His quick reaction has saved them from a thorough hammering. “As much as I hate this, tha’ thing’s control _is_ absurd.”

The fingers Liam presses to his shoulder come up red stained. All the strain keeps pushing his wound to a worse condition. The ice also burns his skin and muscles. If this drag for too long, there’ll be more to worry about than just bleeding to death.

“Can you handle the jelly stuff?” he asks, supporting himself on his sword. “I just need an opening. Just one.”

It’s better to turn around, so he can’t see Zayn’s grimace. Too bad for him that Zayn has other plans, as he finds his face cradled in soft hands.

“I will make you one,” Zayn states, studying his eyes. “And then I’m fixing your shoulder.”

But the truth is, they’re gambling. They’re going for their biggest gamble yet, betting all in a newfound power. After all, it’s been hardly a week since acquiring the first gem. _Hell_ , Zayn himself admits he’s not too confident in using advanced wind magic. Still, options are few, and if they can’t trust this plan, they can rely on each other.

Both nod, and at Navi’s signal, sprint away from the safety of their hiding spot. Morpha locates them and retaliates with, not two, but _seven_ tentacles.

Liam sheaths his sword, never slowing down his pace. The first five tentacles home in on him, yet he waits. _Not yet,_ he tells himself.

“Farore Spell: Dandelion Bolt!”

Lighting branches out from behind Liam, sizzling through the room. The two spells collide in an explosion of steam that veils the room. Morpha shrieks. The explosion seems to distress it more than the steam itself. It launches a second assault with its remaining tentacles, and that’s the moment Liam has waited for.

“Nightshade Arts,” he draws his sword out by an inch with the flick of his thumb, face to face with Morpha. “Harvest.”

Seven simultaneous slashes converge on Morpha’s nucleus, and before he falls, Liam finds himself back at Zayn’s side.

“Tell me why I still listen to your crazy ideas,” Zayn says. “I’m still getting used to this, y’know.”

Liam grins. “I like to think that’s ‘cos you trust me.”

He says this, but Zayn’s control has done all the work. Teleporting him close to Morpha could have gone wrong. But it’s worked. And then it hasn’t, as he parries off an angry tentacle with a sharp edge of ice along it.

“Zed! Again!” he yells to Zayn, deflecting the edge of the tentacle with the fuller of his blade.

“ _Leeyum!_ Wait!”

A second assault becomes harder, as now Morpha’s has adapted its long-range attacks. It also can mimic some of Liam's swordsmanship to an extent. Allowing this fight for longer—now more than ever before—can only spell their demise.

Desperate times require desperate measures.

Shield to the back. Liam ditches defence completely. The protection the Zora Armour provides is minimal. He doesn’t put fault at it, and understands that’s not its primary function, anyway. But two hands mean a heavier swing, and right now he needs added weight to cut through Morpha’s mucus.

“Nightshade Arts—” he swings his sword above his head, “—Overwinter.”

He's taken to Morpha’s location again, and his blade swings down with all of his might. A clean cut to split the red nucleus, if not for a reinforced layer of goo.

Liam puts his back and all his weight into his blade. It will go through. It has to go through, or they won't save anybody. His promise to Zayn will fall flat like a lie, and that's the one thing he cannot afford.

“Disappear... you gooey... thingy!” he hisses through a clenched jaw, driving the edge in, millimetre by millimetre.

Morpha, sensing the imminent threat grows frozen spikes it drives through Liam’s flesh. But at creating them, it also makes its shell less sturdy, and a little easier to cut.

Still, this is bad. The wounds keep adding up. Liam's vision starts growing blurry, and his grip on his sword becomes loosen. He can hear Zayn's voice, though even that starts to grow muffled and unintelligible. If he loses consciousness now, it's all over.

“ _Dast-e-toofan_.”

Lightning strikes Liam's blade, but somehow it doesn't affect him. His sword sizzles with a white glow that rapidly evaporates the ice in his flesh, as well as Morpha’s shield.

With the last of his strength, he pushes his way through. It's Morpha's last shriek. The two halves of its nucleus wither on the spot, shrivelling like burnt paper.

As Liam plummets, he smiles at the job completed. Now he can let darkness engulf him.

Zayn will chew him up for this. Might be the reason why he sees Zayn diving towards him, reaching for his hand.

#

A somewhat familiar room greets Liam upon his awakening. It's night, he confirms with a glance through his window. How much time has passed? Hours? Days? Months? And if he's not at the Water Temple, does it mean he's dreaming?

First thing, he needs a calendar. He'll just get up—

 _Bandage?_ So much bandage, in fact. He could easily pass for a Gibdo. They hug his chest, shoulder, biceps, forearm, hand. Morpha's last attack hadn't seemed too bad, but it seems the watery goo _thrashed_ him.

Zayn. Where's Zayn? Probably reading _101 ways to Strangle Your Daft Knight_ by now. Something more than grabbing his neck and wringing it like washed cloth. The good news is, Zayn has never done chores in his life, and so has no practice. The bad news is, Zayn’s a fast learner.

His search is short-lived, as he finds the weight on his thighs isn't just a bunch of blankets.

“Don't... _Leeyum_... you rec’ess... d’nut.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Liam's lips. Even unconscious, Zayn finds time to scold him. He doesn't know whether to feel flattered or concerned.

Just because he can, he watches Zayn's light snores, chest rising and falling to a soft rhythm.

“You protect me more than I protect you,” he whispers, gently poking Zayn's left cheek with his forefinger. “Thanks, babe.”

“Oh, you're awake!” Navi flies into the room, perching herself on the finger he offers her. “You scared us bad!”

She proceeds with a detailed recounting of the events following his collapse. She talks of heat magic filling the temple, and Zayn acquiring the sapphire from the altar.

“He used this HUGE spell to close all your wounds at once!” Her voice goes up, and she backflips in the air. “Then he brought us back to this inn in a snap! It's been a moon now!”

Almost two days for him, then. Navi's tale also implies they haven't returned to Zora's domain. Well, Liam hasn't for sure—unconscious and all—but he'd expect Zayn to confirm if their victory has ended the kingdom’s endless winter.

“Aren't you waking him up?!” Navi asks, breaking him free from his thoughts. “This position can't be good for his back! He only grabbed a blanket because I insisted!”

Liam smiles. “He can be stubborn, I know.”

“His wand grew larger, too! You should ask him to show it!”

He immediately sucks his lips in, holding his breath. She’s too pure for this pun in his mind.

“I’m sure he’ll show me his… uh, his wand to me at some point. Don’t worry,” he replies instead.

Slowly, Liam pulls Zayn onto bed. The fact that Zayn doesn't wake up shows how little he’s slept. Chaining new spells. Perfectly healing wounds. Teleporting them across the continent. Hardly sleeping. His current sleep must come from exhaustion and acute loss of Mana.

Liam lays Zayn's head on his chest, chuckling when Zayn readily snuggles to him.

“Oi, are you asleep or not?” he asks in a whisper, draping an arm around Zayn. “Snuggle bug.”

Navi flies over to the chest of drawers, flying circles over it. “I'll be in your pouch, if you need me!”

“Night, Navi,” he replies.

Once she's gone, his attention is all Zayn's again. He combs the fringe of raven hair sideways, and places a soft kiss to the unveiled forehead. He shouldn't, but just for tonight, he'll indulge every second of this moment. Their journey keeps getting more dangerous, and before the day they're apart, he'll make sure to treasure these little moments.

He can’t hold Zayn forever, but tonight he does, hoping it won't be the last time.

“Night, babe.” He places another forehead kiss, hooking his chin above Zayn's head. “Rest now, my prince.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	5. Dusk

**V**

Soft heartbeats and a familiar scent stir Zayn awake. He remembers nothing about getting in bed, and yet, that's where he wakes up. Not his own bed, as this isn't his bedroom, either.

“When did I—”

Zayn cuts himself to smile at the sight: an asleep Liam snores lightly, head tilted sideways and a trail of drool on the corner of his mouth. His large hand rests on Zayn's hip, and his expression is as soft as it can be; no more wincing, meaning the ache in his muscles is gone.

“Thank Goddess you're okay,” he whispers, caressing Liam's cheek with the back of his hand. “I told you to be careful.”

If he moves about too much, he'll wake Liam up. And when that happens, he can kiss (not really) a cuddle goodbye. He can't have that yet. Let him savour this moment a little more. Allow him to live in this bubble where life's still the same, and in the safety of Liam's arms, no harm can reach him.

So, Zayn repositions his body with minimal movement, setting his chin on his hands atop Liam's chest. He wants to admire Liam's peaceful expression, much softer than this hardened warrior.

Chances like this don’t come often, no. Mostly, because Liam wakes up very early every day. He insists it's Zayn who loves sleeping, and there's _some_ truth to it, but it doesn't change that Liam is up obscenely early. _Every_ morning.

Zayn draws lines with his pinky finger. A strong jaw. Birthmarks that demand their own special attention. Thick, bushy eyebrows that make expressions so pointed. A button nose responsible for half of that boyish, puppy look.

It's a pity Liam doesn't see it, because there's as much beauty to him as there’s to his soul.

“Am I getting scolded?”

“Unlikely,” Zayn replies, reciprocating Liam's sleepy smile. His forefinger draws circles in a patch of chest hair that peeks over bandages. “I was proper angry, but... scared more than angry.”

Liam closes his eyes, nodding. If he understands this, why does he keep throwing himself into the flames?

“A victory that takes you from me means nothing. I've told you tha’.”

Again, Liam nods. His hand cradles Zayn's cheek, and his rough thumb caresses the cheekbone.

“I'm really sorry, babe,” he says solemnly, then grins. “Starting to think you are the knight here. Proper hero and stuff, eh?”

Zayn laughs. “Doughnut!”

Their position is favourable, and lying together transitions to a hug seamlessly. A tight, reassuring hug both crave. Zayn breaks it first, though for a valid reason.

“Come.” He rolls off Liam and grabs his hand. “I'm washing you.”

Liam immediately fists the blankets onto his lap. “Now? That’s... not a good idea.”

And okay, Zayn gets that they're young and nature happens every morning. That's besides the point. They need to wash up, and he needs to assess the healing of Liam's wounds. A convergence of interests, if he's asked.

“There's nothing there I haven't seen before,” he reasons. “I'm not afraid of a willy or two.”

“I definitely don’t have two. And I'm more concerned that you're _not_ being afraid of willies.”

Zayn sighs. His plans are to visit Zora's Domain today. At this pace, it might not happen. This demands drastic measures. And if he has to teleport Liam into the open bath, then so be it.

#

After breakfast and a convoluted bath, they bid Chessica goodbye once more. Now that Zayn has learnt the way there, visiting Zora's Domain is a spell away. No more riding a ratty raft and dodging rocks.

“The ice is gone!” Navi points out, flying over the bay at the docks. “But where are the guards?”

The strange flow of Mana had also disappeared. Still, no sign of activity in the streets, but that means recovery for that malady is slow.

Zayn smiles, clasping Mikau's spear to his chest. This should fulfil their promise. The kingdom Mikau gave his life to save is now set to recover. May this certainty appease the sorrow that will inevitably inhabit Mikau's dad's heart after the tragic news.

“Mr. Seggin!” Zayn knocks on the door, before entering the hutch of polished stone. “We have a message—”

Mikau’s spear rattles on the floor. Zayn bumps into Liam’s chest, and here he can’t tell whether he’s taken a step back, or just halted in his tracks. His hands now cover his mouth.

This isn’t real. They've defeated Morpha. The frost is gone. The natural Mana flow has been restored. Why—just _why_ —Mikau's dad now lacks strength to even cough?

As quick as Liam vanishes, he returns.

“It’s the same for the other houses,” he reports, chewing on his bottom lip. “Nobody’s getting better.”

Zayn storms to the castle. Sidon has some explaining to do. A lot of it, actually. This is not what Mikau had hoped for, gave his life for. He’s done as the Zora Prince instructed, yet nothing has changed.

“Sidon, you prick! No one's saved!” He marches up to a carefree prince watering a flower bush. This is no time for formalities. “You lied to me!”

Prince Sidon doesn't contest it. He takes his time placing his watering can down and standing up in absolute silence. When he finally turns around, his face comes to light: half of it covered in frost that resembles glass shards.

“I'm afraid we must rely on you again,” he replies, voice dragged out.

#

“I oppose this.”

Zayn refuses to send Liam in another fool’s errand. Not with people they don’t know, and surely _not_ after the scare of a few days ago. It’s one thing if Liam accepts the request, but he won’t order him to go.

Except that Liam, being Liam, accepts it.

“It won't take long, Your Highness,” Liam tells him, and departs with a trio of Zora soldiers.

Whilst they wait, the suggestion of a chess match comes up. Far from Zayn's favourite game, he accepts a few friendly matches, lest nerves eat him up. Distractions are welcome.

Unlike the remarks Sidon slips into conversation.

"You could still join the family, even without marrying my sister.”

Zayn moves his horse. “This is no time to jest, Prince Sidon.”

Sidon also goes for his move, yet he doesn't move his piece. Instead, he picks his queen up.

“And what of it, if I’m not?” He lifts his gaze from the board. “If I wish to make you my Queen?”

The piece glows purple. Sidon tries to touch Zayn with it, only to have a shadow knock it off. The ivory queen shatters against the wall, as a boomerang cuts the air, back to its owner.

Zayn blinks at the man standing by the door.

“ _Leeyum_?”

“I doubt feeding me to your pet will solve your problems.” Liam puts his boomerang away. “Why would you hide the truth, Your Highness?”

 _‘Hide the truth,’_ bollocks. He's lied straight to their faces. Liam proves himself too nice to offend people. Even the ones who have done him wrong.

“Explain it! Now!” Zayn demands, teleporting to Liam's side.

No answer. Sidon rushes to the shattered chess piece, picking the crumbles in trembling hands. There’s no Mana left in it. The strong magic concealed it has dispersed into the air much like ether. Perfectly concealed magic that Zayn couldn't sense _at all_.

“What do you see in him?” Sidon crushes the remains of his broken queen in his palm. Little he cares about the ochre dripping from his clenched fist. “What do you see in a peasant to reject me?!”

Zayn exchanges a mute look with Liam.

“I’m royalty like you! I’m the superior choice!” Sidon continues his tirade, voice growing louder. He snatches a seemingly decorative trident off his wall, pointing it to Zayn. “Why not me?!”

And then, Sidon also falls silent. His trident rattles on the floor, and the ochre form his hand also runs down his mouth. He collapses face-first into a large ochre puddle, most of his abdomen gone.

“Unable to reign, unable to gain love, unable to kill a mere soldier and a pathetic excuse of a mage.” The man flicks his sword to the side, further painting the floor in Sidon's life, before sheathing it. “What a pitiful existence you had.”

Sidon coughs. “Kill... a mage? No... I wanted... him!”

Zayn clenches a hist to his chest. Is this what he'd believed in? Corrupted Mana has no other purpose other than destruction. It goes on the opposite principle of creation. That’s the basic every mage learns, and why the abuse of magic is their highest taboo.

“Tha’ was not whatever you believed it was, Sid,” Zayn says, drawing his sceptre. Most of the initial fire in his veins has mellowed out into pity. “You've been deceived.”

Angry tears roll down Sidon's face. He tries to wield his trident again, but the frost on his head has already spread to his arms. His muscle contraction itself causes his brittle limbs to shatter.

“Vaati! You—”

Vaati opens his hand, crushed ice pouring over Sidon’s hollow neck. The remaining body shatters of its own accord, becoming ochre-stained snow.

“I never imagined a mongrel and a failure of a sage would become a hindrance to my plans. Fortune is not on my side it seems.” Vaati laments, wiping his hand in a purple handkerchief. “But no matter. Because your tomfoolery ends right here.”

At the first spark before Vaati’s eyes, Zayn casts lightning to counter a dark thunderbolt. The two spells collide in the middle of the room. They’re on equal footing, till they’re not, and darkness overpowers light.

“Nightshade Arts: Harvest.”

Liam unleashes his technique from Vaati's blind spot. His blade reaches as close as an inch from his target, only to be stopped by a single pinky.

"Multiple swings that almost happen simultaneously.” Vaati deflects the sword with a mere flick of his pinky. “I commend you for not using it in the tournament.”

Liam vanishes back to Zayn's side, and revolving ice pyramids crash into Vaati. In case just magic isn't enough, Zayn has added rotation to increase destructive power. He finishes by sealing the area inside a bigger pyramid, and impaling it with stalagmites of ice. Silence reigns.

That sapphire from the Water Temple has improved his control and Mana flow, for sure.

“Were it not for your foolishness, I would have appreciated your strength in my numbers.”

Zayn's ice magic catches on fire, devoured by dark flames. An unscathed Vaati steps out, dusting his robes off.

“I regret to inform you two I am done toying with you,” he says, drawing his sword. “ _Umbra Reverie_.”

Gates of bones open on the floor, letting purple tentacles out. Teleport fails Zayn time and time again, and Liam’s blade is as good as a stick before purple goo that swallows them. If anything, struggling makes them sink faster and get more tangled.

Vaati sheaths his sword, and struts away. “It's more entertaining to send you to the underworld alive.”

“ _Leeyum! Leeyum!_ ”

He's sunk much more than Zayn. His fingertips are the only portion of him still visible. Between them there’s no more than an inch. They're so close. If only Zayn could reach for him, they could still try something, anything to help them.

To help _Liam_.

_If I really have any power, any way to change this ill fate, please, grant my wish._

The tar comes up to Zayn’s chin, and then into his airway. Just before blacking out, he's convinced his fingertips brush against something. If there's really a flash, Zayn's eyelids are far too heavy for him to tell.

#

“You are definitely not from around here.”

A little girl’s voice rings in Zayn’s ears, as he starts to regain consciousness. Every little movement done to push himself up drives imaginary nails through his muscles. This pounding in his head shows no mercy, either, and just opening his eyes takes nearly all his energy.

“You’re wasted, boy. Rough night?” the voice asks, and by now Zayn wonders who’s teaching a little girl this kind of words. “You know what they say... _you booze, you lose_.”

In a final effort, Zayn pries his eyes open, thankful to find dim lights and shadows, mostly. Had it been sunlight, he’d risk going blind or exploding his head. A few seconds are needed for his eyes to adjust to the room, but when they do, he’s met with bars.

“Where—” He presses the back of his hand to his nose, smothered by a putrid smell. A single whiff sends fire down his throat and water up his eyes. “Oh Goddess! Wha’ is tha’?!”

“You sure took your sweet time, Pretty Boy,” a voice mocks. The same one Zayn recalls hearing before waking up. “Oh. That would be the smell of punishment. You defy the king, you rot in these cells.”

Cells. This one sure looks like it. There’s a dungeon on the lowest level of Hyrule castle with several rooms separated by bars. Zayn might have visited it once, or twice in his entire life. Those cells rarely see use, though, as crime ratings are close to zero in the kingdom. His dad keeps them for historical reasons rather than anything else.

Zayn approaches the bars, noticing odd dark soot that wafts from the ground. He tries to catch some, but it goes right through his hand. It’s not cold, nor hot. Not soft, though it’s not hard either. It has form and volume, yet his hand fails to touch it.

 _Where is this place?_ His best guess is a castle: sturdy walls, ceiling and floor. If he ignores the smell of death and this dark snow, it’s just like home. But if this is a dungeon... why is there a little girl down here?

“You’re just like the rumours say.”

An ample, red eye startles Zayn into a painful landing. He reaches for his arse, staring back.

There’s no white to this eye. Instead, he meets what resembles a flame trapped in amber. This eye scrutinises him from top to bottom, unnerving and diligent.

“I don’t feel any Twilight from you,” the floating imp of artichoke green skin says. She vanishes in a cloud of dark dust, reappearing before Zayn, tilting his chin up on her forefinger. “There’s something _odd_ about you, all right— just _not_ your lack of Twilight.”

Zayn closes a fist to restrain the imp in water magic, but nothing happens. He repeats the movement three times more, to no avail.

“Soul Bind!” he tries again.

“Not sure what you're playing at, Pretty Boy, but I need your help,” she says, floating away. She disappears, then reappears by his ear. “It’ll benefit us both. What do you say?”

Her words get half lost on Zayn. He studies his hands, flexing his fingers slowly. He wishes for water. Nothing. Next, he evokes wind. Again, no response. He swallows hard, and since he has nothing to lose, goes for lightning— not even a _spark_ comes out.

A tiny hand covered in black fur waves before his eyes.

“Hello? Anybody in there? I was so sure you can hear me,” the imp says, crossing her legs and arms as she floats around the cell. “Did you hit your head just now, or...?”

It’s in a bucket on the corner of the cell that mystery partially unveils. As Zayn stares at his reflection, he finds himself under someone else’s gaze. The eyes staring back at him aren’t brown, least of all his. Nor is his hair, as he rakes a hand through medium-length curls.

“... _Leeyum?_ ”

However similar, this is no Liam, either. The build is smaller like Zayn’s although the hairy arms—and chest, he checks—are definitely not of a Hylian.

“Look, I hate to interrupt your ‘breakdown time’ or whatever—” the imp grabs his face in her tiny hands and turns it to her “—but if you wanna _live_ , I suggest we do it _now,_ or guards will come!”

Her manners... Too abrasive, too brash, too... _lacking,_ Zayn thinks. This girl hardly qualifies as help, but in this scenario, what options does he have? A dank cell reeking of death, or a strange trip that _might_ lead to freedom. He can only choose one.

He takes a deep breath. “How... can we leave?”

The imp, grins wide, straightening her head adorn. Although made of stone, she shows no signs of discomfort on its weight, or the eyepatch it forms over her left eye. She presses her palms together, then shoots dark energy out of them. It takes a single shot to open the lock.

“Like this.” She pushes the cell door with a forefinger. “Let’s go!”

Thoughts rush on adrenaline, much like Zayn’s body. There’s so much to ask, so much to understand. For now, though, he sprints in whatever direction the girl imp points him. It’s not the moment, nor the place to sit down and chat. First, they escape, and then—with some luck—he can figure out where he is and why he’s in somebody else’s body.

But then, he halts.

“Did you hear tha’?”

“Hey! What’s the big idea? I almost broke my nose!” she grunts, balancing her stone hat toppled with the impact. “‘That’ what, anyway?”

He focuses on the whining sound. “An animal crying.”

“Well, we're not here to save—”

Maybe she's not, and maybe Zayn isn't, either. What he's certainly not is letting some poor animal locked in this hellhole. That's something he cannot ignore.

Plus, he smells something good in the directions of the cries. And he’s more impressed that he can distinguish anything among the reek of death here.

“Tha’ way!”

Last cell at the end of the corridor. A way opposite to the one pointed to him. His new companion is less than thrilled, but the right decision is clear. For Zayn, at least. He has no idea what to do now—that he stares at a chained grey wolf—but he's here.

The wolf, however, doesn't share the sentiment, lunging at the bars.

“There you have it. It doesn't want our help. We don't want to help it. Everyone's happy. We leave,” Imp Girl says, doing a mock celebratory dance. “Yeah?”

Not yet. Up close the scent becomes stronger, leaving no doubt: Zayn knows this smell. Slowly he crouches to look the creature in the eyes. Golden eyes that shimmer like a chest of treasures, pierce through Zayn's very core. Eyes of alertness, carrying the wilderness and caution only a cornered animal knows.

Unconsciously, Zayn reaches between the bars, compelled to touch the wolf's muzzle. A bad idea, as fangs narrowly miss his hand.

“It's just scared,” he tells her, turning again to the wolf and its bared fangs. To free it he'll need to build some trust first. “We're not going to hurt you. Let me help you.”

The wolf’s posture doesn't change. Rather, it grows more defensive, snarling at him. They don't have time for this. In a sense that Zayn has to free it, and worry about not becoming a snack _later_.

“Hey! Curly! What’s— “

Zayn grits his teeth, as sharp fangs sink into his flesh. It's a strong bite. His bones —or whoever these bones belong to—won't stand the pressure for too long.

“I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?” His free hand also reaches through the bars, petting the Wolf's face. “Help me help you, will ya?”

The fierce bite gets replaced by bristly, tiny licks and low whining. Zayn runs his fingers through fluffy fur, smiling despite the stinging.

“Can you free him?”

The imp’s jaw drops open. Her eyes—the one that's visible, anyway—squint.

“Are you serious?” She scoffs. “Tell me. You. Are. _Not_.”

Zayn blinks. What part doesn't sound serious? He’s bleeding, covered in teeth marks.

She wiggles a warning finger in his face, and whatever words to pop up in her mind are, thankfully, ditched.

“You owe me one,” she warns. Another energy shot bursts the sturdy chain shackling the animal to the middle of the cell, and one more for the cell door. “Actually, scrap that— you owe me _at least_ two!”

Her warnings, threats, or whatever can wait— first, they must leave.

“You’re free, boy,” he tells the wolf, rubbing its neck profusely. Do wolves understand human language? Dogs do, but... can this be considered a dog? An oversized puppy? It no longer acts hostile, so it might understand the concept of gratitude, at the very least.

_“The foreigner has escaped!”_

“See? That’s what I wanted to avoid!” the imp says, pointing in the direction the voices come from. She smacks Zayn’s forearm with a resounding slap, only to have the wolf snarl at her. “And you shut your trap, fleabag! This is all because we were busy saving your furry ass!”

But if she reproaches the wolf, she also mounts it, patting the space behind her.

“Hop on, already.”

“This is a wolf,” he replies, and this is easily one of the strangest sentences he’s ever spoken, given the context. “I can’t just _ride_ it.”

Or maybe he can, because frantic steps approach down the hall. He throws a curt _“sorry, Wolfie!”_ and straddles it. When the wolf’s legs don’t give out, he sighs in relief. Perhaps, wolves _are_ more than just oversized, wild dogs.

“Follow my lead,” the imp instructs, and Zayn, too, fists the wolf’s mane. “Let’s go, Furball!”

If they leave this place alive, there's one new thing Zayn will have learnt: wolves are fast. This one is, at least. It's not as if he's interacted with many in life to have a solid reference. Or any, really. Unless he counts those Wolfos fought outside the Forest Temple.

Regardless, they sprint and wind every corner at top speed, dodging arrows and knocking down anyone blocking their path. Nothing can stop them. Not even a solid wall, as the imp’s chanting opens a door on an otherwise dead end.

The grey wolf darts through an unveiled narrow corridor, dark like a moonless night. This is when Zayn discovers that, if he focuses a little, his surroundings become cyan outlines for his eyes.

After many detours, a silver gleam signalises the exit. Fresh air, at last. Zayn smiles to himself. The sweet taste of freedom becomes sour, once he notices that charred skeletons and weapons lie all around them.

This is the first time Zayn’s imp companion grows silent. Her tongue has suddenly lost its edge. There's no witty comment. She just stares at a pile of bones in complete silence. And Zayn doesn't mean to intrude her moment, but he still needs some explanation.

“Won't they follow us, though?” He figures it comes across more polite if he whispers. “We shouldn't stay here for too long, uh....”

The imp’s golden hair grows into a hand larger than herself, picking a scorched spear up. "Wizzro...”

“Right. We shouldn't stay here too long, Wizzro.”

“Name's Midna; not Wizzro, you moron!” she barks, then teleports to where a skull hangs off the handle of a slim sword stuck in the ground. “He did all this. This carnage upon my people!”

The familiarity with this kind of scene squeezes at Zayn’s throat, though not as much as the first time. He won't say he's grown used to it— _ever_. But it also doesn't surprise him as much as it once did, and this realisation ties his stomach up in knots.

“Midna, right?” He takes a few cautious steps. “Is this why you needed help?”

She doesn't reply. Not right away, any way. Her hair takes the skull off the sword, then pulls it out of the ground. A blade as dark as starry night sky. Seemingly the only thing untouched by flames in this area.

“Take this with you. It's dangerous to walk unarmed.” She throws the sword to him, then teleports back on the wolf's back. “Let's talk somewhere else.”

If Zayn gathers anything from her words, _“Let's talk in those haunted woods”_ isn't that at all. By now, he's established that while her manners are questionable at best, Midna doesn't lie. He's seen the battlefield, her _reaction_ , and himself in her. There’s no way this is a lie.

That's the little assurance he clings to, as they make deeper into the woods. Wolfie—because it needs a name—still follows them, perhaps also a survivor of a massacre? Much more odd is that it doesn't react much to any dead wolves along the way.

When their stroll leads into a long cave, Zayn thanks whatever fortune has bestowed nocturnal eyes on him.

#

The more Midna reveals her plan, the more Zayn is sure that he can't help her. He would, if he could. Genuine gratitude fills his heart. She’s rescued him, after all. As questionable as her methods may be, she _has_ helped him. His own moral code compels him to return the favour, so he wishes he could help her.

She just can’t really expect him to become a swordsman and overthrow this Zant guy.

Objectively speaking, his past rates of kingdom saving remain at zero. He’s failed to save his Kingdom, the Zora Kingdom, and Kokiri Village. The bitterness left by his last encounter with Vaati hasn’t left his mouth, either. If anything, it intensifies when he’s yet to find Liam and Navi without his magic or any clues.

“Listen here, Pretty Boy,” she begins, pointing to stone tombs in the deepest part of the dark cave. “ You want to find your friend, and I'm telling you the princess can do it when we restore her powers. You scratch her back, she scratches yours. It's hardly algebra.”

Okay, she's not taking the news too well.

“This?” He brandishes the dark blade, cutting the air with small whistles. “I can't use this. I’m telling you; you got the wrong person!”

Midna teleports right before him, her red eye even more inflamed. Her disregard for personal space, and a single, bared bang on the corner of her mouth don't inspire confidence, either.

“I've kept my end of the bargain. Your turn now,” she growls, tilting his chin on her tiny fingers. “Or else I'll be _mad_.”

Zayn huffs. “And I'm telling you—”

 _A blade’s whistles are a call to battle.  
_ _You, who seek lost arts, show us your resolve._

They both turn to the direction Wolfie snarls. All tombs glow in pulses, lit in a cerulean hue. The pulsing increases steadily, till it launches a blinding glare and becomes flames.

 _Come forth, o seeker of our arts.  
_ _We shall judge your worth._

Thick fog swallows the cave, and along with it, Midna and Wolfie. Zayn calls out for them, tries to reach for them, only to come up unanswered and empty-handed. Any direction he takes brings him back to his starting point before the tombs.

The foremost flame burns brighter, as the others merge with it. What's just fire burning gains form in an armoured corpse.

“Best me and prosper, or fail and perish,” it says, the hollow of its left eye socket lighting up in scarlet.

Zayn doubts ‘perish’ can carry local meanings besides the usual ones. Especially when a living corpse draws a rusty sword and yields a battered shield.

“Oi! You got the wrong—”

He angles his torso left and right, narrowly missing the dented blade. The dead knight follows with a thrust, and this one Zayn also dodges, bending backwards and flip kicking the undead’s chin.

Zayn finishes his hand stand, watching the skeleton stagger and stumble. _Did I do tha’?_

Doubts grow into certainty with the next blows. Zayn's body moves nimbly, somehow used to this kind of action. He may barely dodge every slash, but he dodges them, nonetheless. This body isn't his, and now he's confirmed it.

It makes sense that he's unable to use magic, if there's none stored in him. He can't look like himself because he's not _himself_. Still, the question gnaws harder: if this is his reincarnation, why does he remember his life as Hyrule's Prince?

No time to form hypotheses. The knight’s blade hones in on his neck in diagonal. He won't be able to dodge this one. _Shit_.

Zayn closes his eyes to the unavoidable coldness of steel in his flesh.

 _Clang_.

Or not.

He opens his eyes, and he's parried it with Midna’s gift. No idea how or when, but he has. Little does he care. His head is still attached, and that's what matters now.

“Great Hylia, help me conquer this one,” he whispers. As if hearing his prayer, his legs double kick on the knight’s shield, launching him a safe distance from his foe.

The thought that he's become a vengeful, earthbound spirit possessing some guy’s body crosses Zayn's mind.

 _You are indeed worthy.  
_ _Survive, and the technique shall be yours._

From this point on, he lets his borrowed body take control. It clearly knows what's doing, so might as well let it work. He just fails to anticipate movements so familiar to him.

As he holds the sword to his back, in an imaginary sheath, Zayn focuses on old memories. Memories of specific words. _Rather,_ these words bubble their way to his lips, like air in the water.

“Nightshade Arts,” he says, studying the dead knight’s instance and glowing sword. It's coming. “Harvest!”

The knight fades back into a blue flame, a voice greeting Zayn right afterwards.

 _Though you already carry a superb technique,  
_ _a knight must uphold his word.  
_ _Raise your blade._

Zayn obliges. Dark blue flames light his sword up, even though no heat emanates. Now that he thinks about it, there isn’t any heat from the flame speaking to him, either.

 _At the prime of your strength,  
_ _you shall cast beams from your blade._  
_Beware, for it will not be possible,  
_ _once weary from battle._

“Cheers.... I suppose?” He lowers the sword, when the flames go out. “Thanks for your help.”

The floating flame splits in multiples, and each reshapes into a fire wolf.

_Find us where the immovable howl._

Each wolf zooms in a different direction. The fog begins to clear, and when thin enough, a large shadow knocks Zayn flat on his back.

“It's good to see you, too, Wolfie,” he says between laughs. Maybe wolves _are_ oversized dogs, if they can lick faces like this. “I'm alright, boy. Calm down.”

“I'm glad you're alive because it just wouldn't stop howling!” Midna floats closer to them, legs crossed and arms behind her head. “I'm guessing you're alive because you've succeeded.”

“Not thanks to you,” he retorts.

Yeah, it's all worked out, but what if not? Zayn won't take credit on something this borrowed body has done. He's lucky—thought that’s debatable—enough to possess a body apt to fight. _Luckier_ that he's memorised some sword movements. Otherwise, he would have joined that knight’s gang.

“I'll help you on some conditions,” he says.

#

Sometimes, an expedition party is just a wolf, an imp and a spirit possessing a random body. That's what Zayn learns once they depart to find what Midna calls Howling Stones. How stones can howl is beyond him, but again, so has been his life for several days.

The first stone — technically the second one — slumbers in a second cave, veiled by a waterfall. An underground river forms a second waterfall inside the cave, and a cool breeze creates a soft melody from the rocks around. One that Wolfie sing along with howls of its own, summoning a one-eyed white wolf.

The same fog from the graveyard engulfs and separates Zayn from his companions. This time, he has an idea of what to expect. He doesn't bat an eye when a corpse knight issues a duel.

Past the initial struggle, victory emerges with Zayn’s name on it. Or this body’s owner’s. The final technique is Liam's, so part of the credit goes to him, too.

And just like this, Liam's absence hits him again. A barb embedded under Zayn's skin. In moments like this, Liam would take out his ocarina and play some Sheikah song. Now? Zayn is lucky enough that he can remember a single melody. Midna has sworn an oath to have the princess help him find Liam, and this alone keeps the flames of perseverance in his heart.

The second stone is a little trickier to find, buried in the sands of a desert. First, they have to take down a humongous worm to even reach the ruins. Then, it's another couple of hours to find the mechanism that lets them deep into the chamber.

There's no way Zayn can't link it to a Modulga, if only smaller. ‘Smaller’ here still several times larger than Wolfie. Just escaping its fangs and avoiding rotting in its stomach is a victory in itself.

Another long battle, another victory. Every new encounter the corpse knight pushes Zayn to use the new techniques learnt to win. A certain amount of repetition describes a pattern, and that's what Zayn takes from these life-threatening lessons. Also, he can't shake the idea that if his opponent can pressure him at will, it might as well intentionally hold back.

Sooner rather than later, only one howling stone remains— the North one.

“We've brought water, PB!” Midna calls out, carrying a cask larger than herself on Wolfie’s back. “Take a break; Zant isn't going anywhere. I _wish_ he were, to be honest.”

Zayn picks his cloak off a nearby branch and dons it over his shoulders and head. He crouches down to greet Wolfie and unstrap the cask off its back. He also nods in thanks upon receiving a cup from Midna.

“Your sword arm got a lot better,” she says.

He gulps a full cup in one go, filling another one right in sequence. “I told ya— my body moves on its own.”

Despite this somewhat familiarity with his current vessel, he hasn't—and doesn't plan on elaborating—told her a thing about his theories about himself. There's no way to prove or disprove them, for he still doesn't know where he even is. Yeah, it's the Twilight realm, but _where_ exactly? Midna's _“on the other side”_ answer reveals nothing.

All he knows is that once he's done helping her, they'll fetch the princess and have her help find Liam and Navi. He’s closer than ever before now. This thought alone reignites the fire in his soul whenever it begins to dim out.

In Zayn's defence, staying optimistic is hard around these parts. A land which doesn't know sunlight, where days and nights merge into each other without a beginning, middle, or end. The only inhabitants are beasts— whether native, or folks cursed by their own king. All things considered, it's a miracle he hasn't allowed the gloom to swallow him.

Some credit goes to Wolfie, and even Midna, for keeping him company.

“There you go with the goofy ass smile again,” Midna says. She smirks when he turns to her, then sips leisurely from her cup. “This Li Yum must be important to you.”

“It's ‘ _Leeyum_ ’,” he corrects, dusting himself off as he stands up.

She scoffs. “That's the same I just said, PB.”

He won’t be arguing tonight. _Today_. Whatever time it is, honestly. He's still not used to this complete disregard for calendars and clocks. Though after Midna asking him once why would she shackle and regulate her existence to something made up, he no longer touches this subject. The worst part is, when she puts it this way, it's hard to not concede she _has_ a point.

He picks his sword up, and before he has the chance to walk away, Wolfie starts snarling.

“What is it, boy?”

Midna’s small body is the last thing Zayn sees before he's down on the ground with a sore back. They've argued before, and she has twisted his ear a few times, but tackling him tops all those.

“Have you lost it?!” he grunts, pushing himself up on an elbow. “Can't help anyone with a broken bone, you know?”

“Ah. Cockroaches are resilient the most.”

It's not Midna's voice to reply. This cold voice, cracked and whispered comes from floating rags in the winds.

There's seemingly nothing, till a skeletal hand with a ruby ring on it drops to the side. The rags turn around, and from under the hood, a single red eye that takes the whole face lights up.

“Unless you burn them, they keep coming back,” it says. The energy Midna shoots at it gets deflected by a mere swat of its bony hand. “I told master Zant this, but he just wouldn't listen to me!”

“You should know best that your master listens to no one, Wizzro,” Midna replies. “Especially if it's logical.”

Zayn joins her, sword in hand. “I remember asking you if they'd follow us.”

“I don't think that's the case with him.”

She says ‘he’, but all Zayn sees is a bunch of rags floating in the air. There's no life force in it, either. Despite being in front of them, and moving, he senses no presence. He can pinpoint Midna's, Wolfie's, and even his own— just not Wizzro’s.

“I guess I should thank you for the chance of pleasing my king,” the voice hisses. From the middle of the ragged robes, a giant clawed hand extends in a split second, only halting when Zayn blocks it with his blade. “Now, perish for my sake.”

Three on one hardly spells advantage here. The pattern is clear, though. Every time the ring glows, another wave of energy zooms in their direction. The first kind slower, resembling a gas cloud, and the second one fast and furious like flames. Upon collision, they detonate.

Zayn regroups with the others, seizing the humongous red eye glowing under the hood. Too many gassy orbs turn the space in a minefield. He and Wolfie can't get close, and his and Midna's long range attacks bounce off Wizzro’s invisible shield.

 _What would Leeyum do?_ The question worms into Zayn's brain, past the obvious answers. That fool would have come up with some equally brilliant and reckless plan to slip through Wizzro’s defences. A way to do it _without_ magic.

“Accursed beast!”

Wolfie sprints in Zayn's direction. In its mouth, a forearm joined to a hand flail about. The large eye with fangs, chasing it, meets an end in Zayn's blade.

“I knew your love for bones would be useful one day!” Midna confiscates the ring, juggling it in the air before snatching it. “You're my favorite furball! Honestly.”

More purple flames light up around Wizzro. Blight oozes from the ground, forming a purple lake. Another fanged eye emerges, but several times larger. As large as the head of a Hinox.

“You'll atone for your blasphemy with your lives,” Wizzro hisses, mounting the creature. His left arm disappears into the opening in his robes, a sceptre appearing in his hand. “You're no longer entertaining! And I'm done toying with you!”

Midna waves the unattached arm. “Sounds like you need a hand with that, my man.”

If her intentions are to provoke, she succeeds— Wizzro's pet swims through the mud at top speed, fangs bared. Zayn still tries to get a better glimpse of the weapon in Wizzro's bony grip, when it closes in on them, ready to devour.

“You deal with that big ol’ eye,” Midna whispers to him, and then slips Wizzro's ring on.

Zayn trusts her judgement against his own.

“Nightshade Arts—” he drops his sword to the side, both hands to the handle and edge facing upwards “—Overwinter.”

All of Zayn's stamina goes into this single, longitudinal slash. The eye monster, split into two, burns up in ashes. The dark claw Wizzro summons from his belly, tangles with Midna's hair hand, into a tug of war. Now that she's latched onto him, he hesitates using his gas-flames combination.

“Don't feel cocky, you bratty roach!” Wizzro warns, gathering energy on his sceptre. Before he can shoot it, Wolfie lunges at him to rob his weapon. “You wretched—!”

“Too slow!”

Midna's hair slams the wizard to the ground, then she shoots a condensed blast of dark energy at point-blank. The recoil sends her flying, and Zayn vanishes to catch her before the impact.

He misses Liam, yes. But fighting alongside these two gives him just as much stress. Can anybody not risk their lives for five bloody minutes?

“Midna! Oi, Midna!” he calls out, watching her laboured breath. “You better not die, you bellend!”

It takes a moment before she starts coughing, and then grins meekly at him.

“When I find out what that means... I'm kicking your ass... PB.”

Zayn sighs in relief. She's alive. Weakened but alive. That's good. She still recognises him, which is also good.

“Like you can even reach my arse from the ground,” he replies, heaving her petite body in his arms. He whistles Wolfie in, and heads to the nearest teleport point. “I'll deal with you later, lad,” he adds, this time to the wolf. “Tha’ was insane. Don't do tha’ again.”

Wolfie whines in response, then drops what it has stolen at Zayn's feet.

Zayn recognises this sceptre with blue and green gems.

#

Between the time that takes for Midna to recover and learning the last technique, Zayn spends a good few hours fiddling with his sceptre. Still, no magic for him. He must admit he’s let hope blind him to his current reality. He’d just... had thought _something_ would change with it back to his possession.

But no. Everything remains the same. He can’t use it. Nor for small tricks, like lighting a fire, or swirling water in a cup. He’d hoped it would help him draw his Mana, but in the end, he still can’t use magic.

One good thing he’s taken out of this, though. If his sceptre is here, then he can’t be dead, for nothing is taken into afterlife. And if it’s here, then maybe—just maybe—so is Liam.

“That’s it, PB.” Midna points to the tallest of the castle’s tower. “Our target’s location.”

 _Goddess._ She says it like they’re mercenaries after a bounty. But again, they _are_ here motivated by reward, so there might not be much difference. Midna has helped him escape, and he’s seen the beastfied Twili. These folks need help, and he can offer help. His record on helping princesses and princes may not be the best, but he’ll try.

“With Wizzro’s dead ass _deader_ , there shouldn't be anyone that can guard that usurper,” she explains. “I'll catch up soon.”

Zayn raises a fist, knocking the back of his hand to hers. “You better.”

Not much longer after Midna disappears, a great explosion goes off on the courtyard. She should be fine. Wolfie's with her, too, and he has mean bite and crazy speed of his to help.

Zayn flings himself off the cliff. The paraglider opens with a _fwomp_ , and he rides the wind to one of the tower's windows. Climbing in is simple, once he hacks the bars with a quick draw of his blade.

Inside isn't much different from what he'd expected. Long stairs spiral upwards, overseen by a floating platform of black stone in the middle. Given the distance to the bottom, he assumes it an alternative, faster way to go in.

“I really miss my magic,” he laments to himself, leaping steps by the dozen. He can kiss some stamina goodbye after this climb.

Past the platform, a circular arena of stone and dirt stands, unusually illuminated for Twili standards. Said light, Zayn notices, comes from a circular stone with a spiral pattern, from where sunshine pours like a window on a sunny day. But more intriguing would be the statue that holds the stone.

 _By Hylia!_ Zayn squints, approaching the humongous stone Goddess. He reaches his hand under the light, and yes, it's warm like sunlight he knows.

“Don't you think it's rude to break into someone's chambers like this?”

Zayn puts distance a few metres between him and the voice by his ear. Where he'd stood a second ago, a lanky, tall man of peculiar features studies him with a blank expression.

“Are you Zant?” Zayn asks instead, surprised that the stranger chuckles.

The man's skin has the same artichoke tone as the other Twili, Midna included. And like Midna, he seems able to understand Zayn, and speak in something other than moans.

“What business do you have here, intruder?” The man crosses his arms behind his back, and positions himself under the sunlight. “The outcome will depend on your answer.”

_“We, Twili, are susceptible to light._

_That's why we can only use fires and sols to get any.”_

Midna's words echo in Zayn's mind, as he watches the lanky man bathe in sunlight, unaffected. Something about his overly calm tone doesn't match his words, or plastic smile.

“Step down from the throne,” Zayn says. “The people are suffering. A king is _for_ his people.”

A low chuckle escapes the man's lips, gradually growing into a full cackle. His smile grows wider, too, and for a good minute, he doesn't reply.

“I _am_ helping them.” He places a hand that remains hidden in his long sleeves against the spiral stone. “Once we invade the Other Side, we won't live in banishment, any more!”

The atmosphere shifts. The air grows thicker, as if it wants to choke Zayn with a tight grip around his neck. Despite the happy face, there's a glint to this man's blank eye that inspires danger. It's the same as Vaati’s, but more prominent. Far, far darker.

_“How can I explain this… I just... feel it?_

_You feel it in your body that they want to kill you.”_

Zayn draws his blade, remembering Liam's explanation on detecting blood thirst. He’s experienced it fighting Wizzro, but that can't compare to these nails scratching under his skin.

A maniacal Zant—and there’s no doubt of his identity—bends backwards, all his weight balanced on his knees. When he stands up, bending over, his collar extends over his head, covering his face in a layered helmet. A swat of his arms produce a blade from each sleeve, and his entire body twists over itself.

“Don't preach to me about governing! You live in the light! You know nothing!” Zant shrieks, stomping his feet. All of that cool, collected persona is gone, replaced by shrieks and deranged cackles. “ _Your_ people put us here! And you'll pay for it!”

Deadlier than Zant’s double yielding is his erratic moves. He continuously spins and twists himself slashing in unpredictable ways. Dodging becomes increasingly difficult, and all this in the first minute of the fight.

Now Midna's apprehension makes perfect sense. Greater than Zant’s insanity can only be his skill.

“Nightshade Arts,” Zayn somersaults backwards, dodging between a pincer slash of Zant’s blades, then rolls behind him, “Thistle!”

To his surprise a third and fourth blades contain his strike. A head that's a faithful copy of Zant's helmet, down to the popped out chameleon eyes, emerges from Zant's back. Then, a fifth and sixth blade from Zant's arse try to cut Zayn down.

“What the—”

“Come play with us!” the second Zant says, bending backwards and between his own legs.

The third Zant's head does a half turn, as it unleashes a series of alternated thrusts in the air and stomps on a wobbler. “Bleed, already! I wanna see what colour you bleed!”

The dangerous trio attacks again. From left, right, above and also below. Some Zayn dodges, and many others he parries. But Zant’s blades lust for his flesh, desperate to get acquainted to it, and now there are _six_ of them.

A plan is to defeat them one by one. If only Zant’s shadows would agree and not respawn, that would be perfect. Fewer swords mean fewer cuts and less bleeding. Whilst they’re shallow, too many spell danger. Zayn would prefer to return this body to the rightful owner intact, too.

“Die! Die! Die!” one Zant screeches, flailing his scimitars as he pirouettes. A deadly dance of metal and insanity, clinking against Zayn’s own blade. “Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!”

The other two attack from each side. They’ll connect for sure. Either Zayn deflects the one in the front and tries to get one of them, or he keeps blocking the front and leaves his sides open. This calls for an _‘and’_ , but all he has are _‘ors’_.

He supposes seeing grey just reflects his predicament, till a shadow lunges on all Zants.

“Couldn’t wait for me, you stupid furball?”

Zayn turns in time to see Midna float to him. The shadow stops at his feet, snarling at the knocked-down Zants.

“Since you’re getting your ass handed to you, I guess it’s a good thing we showed up,” she adds, shooting down a Zant that tries to stand up. “Good grief, PB! Can’t do anything without us, can you?”

Of course, she would mock him. He hasn’t expected any different. For now, he’ll gladly take this much welcome reinforcements.

“Cheers, boy! Really saved my arse.” He scratches behind Wolfie’s ear, to which it makes a content whine that makes him smile in return. Then, he turns to Midna with a bored expression. “Are you helping me or not, you floating bellend?”

She puts her arms behind her back, then shrugs. “If there’s no other way, I guess.”

He scoffs. “Wanker.”

Three on three make prospects less gloomy, and place victory within their grasp. Wolfie breaks the Zants’ formation, preventing them from surrounding Zayn or Midna. Meanwhile, Zayn fights one Zant, and Midna blasts the third one from time to time, whenever he tries to escape Wolfie's furious fangs. The tides of battle have changed.

Okay, that's Zayn's initial thought, till a fourth Zant emerges from his own shadow and stabs him.

“PB!” Midna shouts.

She teleports to Zayn's aid, only to also offer her flesh to Zant's blade. Wolfie tries to help as well, but the other Zants merge into a large one and kick it across the arena.

“You bleed like us,” Zant, now with his helmet retracted, admires the crimson to drip from both his scimitars— the one used on Zayn and the one that's wounded Midna. “You are one of us,” he adds, much more collected, unlike before.

Zayn clutches his wound, using his sword as a crutch. “I don't know about tha’.”

And he really doesn't. Maybe this body is related to Zant and the other Twili, but Zayn himself isn't. The scarlet eyes and abundant body hair, recalls a Sheikah, off anything else. There are no similarities between his host and Midna, nor Zant. Zant himself doesn't resemble Midna, and their artichoke skin is where their similarities both start and _end_.

“Why would you want to join forces with her?” Zant asks, tone still serene. Tone that clashes with how he hoists a dizzy Midna by her neck. “It's our chance to make justice. Why would you be against that?”

What justice, though? All Zayn has witnessed amounts to suffering. Beasts roam the land. Villages are in shambles, destroyed by their own residents turned into irrational monsters. The sun doesn't shine here, and nights and days are one with themselves. There’s no place to visit without a few corpses or bones.

What kind of justice can be built upon, or justify such cruelties?

Zant neither waits for an answer, nor offers one. As expressionless as before, he drags Midna to the stone and holds her under the sunlight. She immediately begins to writhe and growl, smoke coming out of her skin. Zant himself shows no sign of being affected.

“Wha’ you're doing?! Stop it!”

Zayn stares at him blankly. He doesn't notice the giant Zant behind him till a large foot stomps him down. He tries to push himself up, but a merciless sole prevents him, cracking of bones feeling the arena.

 _This is bad._ Zayn reaches a hand in Midna's direction. Her screams are subduing. Her struggle has grown sluggish, and he doubts a sudden resistance to sunlight is the reason.

To his left, he sees Wolfie, unconscious and sprawled on an angle unnatural to a living being. It has received the full impact of giant Zant's kick _and_ the collision against the wall. There's no way it'll come unscathed.

 _Leeyum_. That's the only thing he can think about. All these days, weeks, or years he's endured for a chance to see Liam again— all for naught. He's failed to save his kingdom, Mipha's, Deku Princess’, and now Midna’s.

But above all, he's failed to reunite with the one who's always believed in him.

_"I knew you could do it!"_

_"We'll bring everyone back."_

_“I like to think that’s ‘cos you trust me.”_

Zayn’s grip grows loose, “ _Leeyum_...”

It's then that calloused hands encase his, and Zayn wakes up in a bright room. Too bright, as he can barely see himself. There, Liam stands, clear like the smile flashed at him.

Although Liam utters no words, he offers Zayn a sword. One that's unlike the one he's grown used to yield— slender blade and white like snow on Tabantha Tundra.

Upon grabbing the sword, Zayn wakes up to a lifeless Midna dangling under the sunlight. His grip on his sword tightens. Movements and a name become an image clear in his mind.

“Bright Arts,” he says through gritted teeth, “Luminous Bolt.”

Both giant Zant's foot and the other Zant's arm drop to the ground, transverse by beams of light.

Across the arena, Zayn lays a weakened Midna on Wolfie's thick fur.

“PB...”

“Don't speak. You're still weak.” He smiles at her, grabbing her tiny hand that touches his face. She says something about his eyes, though it might as well be a delirium. “Take care of each other. I'll be back in a bit.”

“You!” Zant shouts. His cool persona again cracks, as he picks his impaled arm up and begins to bash his own head. “You, you, you, you, you!”

“A king who mistreats his people is no king,” Zayn replies. There's no doubt about fractured bones, but right now he’s fuelled by the flame ablaze in his heart. Too many are counting on him for him to accept defeat. “This ends here.”

The giant Zant launches a hard punch, and he, too, loses an arm. He then scurries back to the remaining Zant, merging together. Now, with both arms, Zant slides his scimitars out and lunges at Zayn.

“Nightshade arts,” he holds his sword over his head, then swings it down with all might, “Overwinter.”

Zayn's blade breaks through Zant's, shattering them along with the chameleon helmet. Zayn drops to a knee, suddenly aware of a pull on his ankle and entire right shin. Zant himself collapses with a gash from shoulder to hip, unmoving. It's over.

Zayn limps back to his friends.

“Midna, wake up. Midna!” he urges her, gently slapping her cheek. If only he could use his magic to stabilise her condition.

Should he try finding this princess she'd mentioned? She should be powerful enough to heal a little imp. ...right? But again, he'd need Midna to guide him through such an enormous castle. There's always the option of finding her himself, but then he doubts Midna will resist till he limps to every room seeking that Twilight Princess.

“Shit! Wha’ do I do now?”

_“Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!”_

A shiver runs down Zayn's spine. The ominous chanting behind him brings with it a battered Zant with a single scimitar in hand.

“You're bloody kidding me,” he whispers, watching Zant plod in their direction. He can no longer move, and Wolfie's still out like a candle flame in a stormy night. “What the hell is this thing?!”

_“Don't forgive! Don't forgive! Don't forgive! Don't forgive!”_

As Zayn grabs his sword in hand for a fight he has no hopes of winning, the shards of Zant's helmet start glowing. Faintly, at first, then much stronger.

These pieces come to orbit Midna, who also starts glowing. Still unconscious, she floats in the air, as if hoisted up. The shards combine over her head, forming a stone mask like Zant's. The main difference here is the likeness of a knight’s helmet, like the ones Mubariz and the army use.

Midna's hair glows in the same hue, and then splits in many ends that dart across the arena and impale Zant to the opposite wall.

“As long as my god lives... I'll be reborn...” he says, seemingly regaining sanity again. “Ganon shall resurrect me without fail!”

Zant's body inflates and then bursts into dark dust, cementing these as his last words. What else happens next is a mystery to Zayn, as a sharp pain makes the world around him even darker.

#

A fuzzy warmth stirs Zayn awake, as does low, soft howling. A hymn, perhaps? There's familiarity to these notes, although he can't tell exactly. He opens his eyes slowly, shielding them from brightness uncharacteristic to the Twilight Kingdom. His side still stings where Zant stabbed him, so it can't be a dream.

“You're finally awake!” A female voice he can't locate, nor recognise, says. Into his view comes a tall lady of artichoke skin and fiery hair. “We need to take you back to the Other Side.”

Zayn glances over his shoulder. Thick grey fur sprouts from beside his head. His hand slowly reaches for it, and there's no doubt about his pillow’s identity.

“I'm fine, boy,” he croaks, when, in fact, he's _far_ from it. His entire body aches, and he can't not wonder if he's been run over by a pack of Moblin. “Not dying tha’ easy.”

The ginger lady levitates him, doing the same to Wolfie next. It's in much worse shape than Zayn remembers. The few times he tries calling for it go unnoticed, whilst the song of howls goes on.

“I'll force the gate open,” she tells him, arms already open to the stone emitting sunlight. “Hold on to your familiar.”

Zayn obliges, more intrigued by her actions than her identity. Both stir his curiosity, but her garments in particular draw his attention. Her long, black robe covers her back in silvery glyphs he's never seen before, even in his journey across this realm. Her diadem and ornate hair sticks also hint at high status, like his own ceremonial attire back home. Is she a priestess?

Or maybe—

“Are you the Twilight Princess?”

“I'm the Twilight _Queen_ ,” she corrects, holding her hands in an X over the stone.

“Uhh... where’s Midna?”

“She’s fine. I took care of her already.”

Her chanting is foreign to Zayn’s ears. There's not much to do besides letting her finish her business. He does take notice of every aspect of her ritual, however. From twilight matter gathered in her hands to the stone helmet that self assembles over her head.

A flash follows the queen’s last move. Zayn shields Wolfie’s eyes with his body, also turning away from the light. It takes a moment till he can look back, and when he does, he meets with a crack in the thin air. On the other side of the hole, he can see a large arena surrounded by tall marble statues.

“Let’s go,” the Twilight Queen says, despite levitating Zayn and Wolfie to her with a waggle of her finger. He reckons he has no saying in this matter.

Fierce burning spreads over Zayn’s body on the other side. A thousand blades sprout from under his skin, trying to rip him apart. The simple act of breathing burns, too. It’s as if each of his limbs and head are tugged in a different direction. If not for the queen’s magic, he’d be already on the ground, writhing.

“Endure it.” She grabs his hand, squeezing it back. “The curse will dispel in a moment.”

Her words bring no comfort, though. His eyes burn and his throat constricts. Even if he could muster coherent thoughts, articulating them would be impossible. He’s barely conscious whilst a strange pull rips his bones from flesh.

“Stay with me!” a female voice tells him. He hears it, but he cannot locate it for a long moment. “C’mon, PB! We survived worse! Don’t pull this weakass act on me now!”

The pain subdues after indiscriminate time. Whether it’s gone, or his sensory connections have been severed, Zayn cannot tell. His vision is blurry, too, so he sees little of the concerned face staring at him.

“That’s your real face? You really are pretty, I guess.”

Zayn blinks to adjust his eyes. “Wha’?”

His world gradually regains focus. Before him stand two people. One that he already expects, and a face he hasn’t seen in a long time.

_“...Leeyum.”_

Liam’s name stumbles out of his lips with ease, almost in a whisper. Despite his heavy arms, Zayn reaches for Liam’s face. What he meets prompts his touch to recoil, as skin cold as marble nearly burns his fingertips.

He turns to the queen. “He’s not—!”

“Calm down. His soul is gone.” She holds a hand up to his face. “That’s why he’s not moving.”

Which... is the opposite of something meant to calm Zayn down, honestly. He’s unsure how the Twili deal with certain situations, but her words have not the effect she expects.

“Wha’ ya saying? We got—”

With a pinch of her fingers, Zayn’s lips seal together. His eyes follow her other hand, and he watches—unable to move—her hand extract dark fog from Wolfie. Wolfie’s body becomes transparent flames that then leap into Liam’s chest.

“Furball? Can you hear me?”

Liam’s mouth twists. “Five minutes... I’m... a sleepy mouse...”

This time, when Zayn’s vision goes blurry, relief spreads in his chest instead. He waddles in the air, swimming to Liam with welcoming arms. Tears fall freely, as the familiar, peaceful smell assaults his nostrils. How long has it been? He doesn’t know. One thing for sure: it’s been too long.

“You’re safe! You’re safe!” he chants, peppering Liam’s hair in kisses. He inhales deeply, holding the scent in his lungs for as long as he can. “Thank Hylia you’re all right!”

“Not totally, I’m afraid,” the queen says. “Heal up. Then y’all can go bang somewhere, or whatever.”

Zayn stares at his sceptre that she offers her, eyes wide in realisation. Only one person he knows can be this crude.

“Midna.”

“Yours truly,” she replies with a smirk.

She used to be half his height, with her stone hat on, but now she's at least three feet taller than Liam.

“I have questions,” he says, giving her a once over. “ _Several_.”

She pushes the sceptre into his hand. “Boy, you have questions since the moment I met you. Tell me what's new.”

Although true, there are gentler ways to point it out. Again, ‘gentle’ has never been a word in Midna's dictionary, and he won't argue on this.

_“Shabnam-e-rooh.”_

Something has changed. That's the conclusion Zayn comes to, able to use his magic again. He means to treat the deeper wound to Liam's side first, but instead heals every single of them at once. Not only Liam's, but his as well. He'd feared losing touch after so long without practice.

It doesn't take long till Liam stirs awake in his arms.

“ _Leeyum_. Are you all right?”

“I'm... starkers,” he replies, glancing down at himself. “Where are we?”

“Oh, so _that's_ a Li Yum.” Midna nods to herself, shamelessly studying Liam from head to toes. “Yeah, I probably would be upset, too, if I lost a hung like him. I mean, hunk. _Hunk_.”

Zayn steps in front of Liam, covering his modesty with his own hands.

“C’mon. We're travelling buddies!” She crosses her legs that now extend for days, and Zayn suspects she misjudges how deep the cut in her robe is, because her entire thigh is out. “I was butt-naked the whole time and you said _nothing_.”

“You weren't so—” he makes a circular gesture astound his chest, his cheeks inflated for emphasis, “—back then. And you had fur covering you!”

“Babe?” Liam tries in a small voice. “Your hand. Those are my... _unmentionables_.”

Zayn glares at a hysterical Midna, then apologises to Liam, ignoring his ears on fire. Queen or not, she remains the biggest bellend he's ever come across.

Though, to be fair, Zayn prefers this banter to the dreadful scenarios they've lived in the Twilight Kingdom. He has no need for those memories, even if he suspects that's something he doesn’t have a say in.

Once she returns Liam's pouch and armour—and he dresses again—Midna begins a resumed report post-Zant's defeat. From Zant's ambitions to his coup against her, as well as the curse placed on her. She also apologises for not revealing everything and basically dragging both into _her_ fight.

“Well, you kept your word at the end.” Zayn smiles at Liam, before facing her again. “I can't be too mad.”

Liam leans close to Midna, fake whispering, “He'd have helped you, any way. He’s just like that.”

He and Midna laugh, whilst Zayn objects and tries to silence both. This alone strays Midna's story in an hour.

Soon, setting sun decides to hide behind the colosseum, signalling time for their goodbyes. For their deeds, and as her people's queen, Midna offers Liam a slab that freezes moments in time, and to Zayn the sword used in his fights.

“Pretty sure it was all his body doing the rad stuff,” he tells her, politely pushing it back to her. “I'm not really the sword kind.”

Instead of agreement, he's met with a stern look.

“Twilight isn't made only of shadows,” she starts, placing the sword in his hands, and closing the one he had on the handle. A white glow spreads through the blade, tinting onyx into snow-white. “There's also _light_. And it's rude to refuse a gift from the queen, shithead.”

Zayn holds the sword that's now lighter on his arm and much slender.

“And you, Furball,” she carries on, holding an onyx wristband out for Liam, “should you ever need to become a fleabag again, just use this. You can revert any time, too.”

“A portable curse?” Liam asks, taking the gift from her. “Brill!”

Midna smirks, and for an instant the dignified lady gives place to the bratty imp.

“Do I give the most awesome presents, or what?!”

Goodbyes never weigh, till you can no longer put them off. With a flick of Midna's hand, an enormous slab of basalt rock rises from the sands, along with a stand with a circular stone. This circular stone, much smaller, has a silvery mandala engraved on it, similar to Midna's robes.

“This mirror is the only stable gateway to my home.” She aligns it to reflect upon the slab, projecting the mandala on it. A gate covered in neon glyphs appears. “If you wanna details about us, ask the current king. Your _dad_.”

Zayn makes a mental note. There’s so much uncovered about the Twili, and why they're not mentioned in history books. It seems that the Royal family also polarises opinions, like Zant and his absolute hatred, or Midna with her respect. At least, when this is all over, he can visit her to hear more about it.

Till a large forked spear bores into the Twilight mirror, cracking it.

“The light and the shadow world must not overlap again.” She forces a smile, though a single, silver tear betrays her. “I thank you for your help in the name of all Twili. PB, Furball.”

Zayn opens his mouth to protest, to demand her reasons, but stops under Liam's palm on his shoulder. Liam shakes his head at him, and then holds his slate up.

“Say ‘cheese'.”

Midna turns away from the camera. The gate fades by the second. Wait too long, and she'll remain stranded here. She takes a step into the portal, sealing her decision.

And then, two long arms pull Zayn and Liam by their necks, and a flash goes off in their faces. The portal closes, as the Twilight mirror finally shatters.

“I'm gonna miss her,” Zayn says, picking up Liam's Twili Slate.

On display, there's Liam laughing, himself with his tongue out and eyes wide, and Midna’s face squished between theirs. Her grin here is the brightest they've seen.

“Let's go home,” Liam says, slinging his arm around Zayn's shoulders. “We need some rest.”

Indeed, they do. And after that, maybe find out how long they've been away.

#

Moss plagues Hyrule’s castle, as well as its petrified inhabitants. Growing at the bottom of walls. Framing windows. Mimicking trails of tears for some of those trapped in stone. They don’t know how the passage of time in the Twilight translates on this side, but there’s a big, evident difference.

“Ifra...” Zayn encases his mentor’s hands with his. The warmth they once possessed when pinching his ear, or waking from an unwarranted mid-lesson kip is gone. “I’m so sorry.”

At least the hand on his shoulder remains warm and comforting. He doesn’t think he’d have come this far, hadn’t it been for its support. If he nuzzles his cheek against it, it’s completely involuntary.

“Should we leave?” Liam’s bushy eyebrows knit together. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna stay.”

He shakes his head. “I want to be home.”

And he means it. A good month had passed _before_ entering the Twilight Realm. They’ve now confirmed many more have passed since then. Yeah, seeing his friends and family cold as the dead rips at his heart, and ties his stomach in knots. Still, he prefers the certainty of a place to return to over wandering from inn to inn, till their next goal.

“She’s gonna be impressed to see what I’ve learnt,” he tells Liam, wiping his left eye with the heel of his hand. All this moss and mould is starting to affect his eyes. They don’t stop stinging and welling up. “Maybe let me skip classes.”

Liam smiles. Maybe the mould is also attacking his eyes, because they glisten like the surface of Lake Hylian under sunlight.

“She’ll just give you a tonne more stuff to read.” He chuckles. “No doubt about it.”

“You’re probably right,” he agrees, turning to bury his face in Liam’s chest. Liam’s arms provide just the warmth needed to fight the sudden shiver that spreads through his being. “You’re—” he hiccoughs “—probably right.”

On Liam’s suggestion, they leave for Zayn’s chambers. Less of a suggestion and more of a warning, since the next instant Zayn finds himself on his old mattress. Liam, then, vanishes again, promising him a meal.

His room, like the rest of the castle, reeks of mould and begs a good cleaning. There’s some time till Liam comes back, so he decides to make it more liveable. He runs a bath with his favourite soap, then commands a veil of soapy water to scrub walls, ceiling and floor, and windows. To speed it up a little, he adds a bit of wind magic.

The final result isn’t too shabby, if he’s honest. The scent of Silent Princesses now replaces the gloomy air. This is a much more liveable room. Liam also agrees, as he takes in Zayn’s work wide-eyed.

“Why are you doing chores?”

Maybe _‘impressed’_ isn’t the right word.

Zayn huffs. “Do you fancy eating in a dusty room?”

“No, but—”

Zayn swipes his fingers twice. Once to teleport the plates onto his bedside table, and once more to drop Liam onto the mattress. He readily drops himself on Liam, pinning him down.

“Then don’t complain, you doughnut,” he says. The light touch between their noses and Liam’s breath on his lips remind him of how close they are, and he’s forced to roll off. “Let’s eat.”

Canned Hearty Bass with rice doesn’t make for the fanciest meal, but it's enough to fill their stomachs. The fact that Liam stole—or _“required it under emergency code”_ —some of the troop’s rations makes it extra special.

There's an odd satisfaction in Liam occasionally breaking the rules for him.

Once done eating, they have a bath, and Zayn takes the opportunity to check the progress of Liam's healing. Although technically it'd been _their_ body, most of the wounds from fighting Zant ended up with Liam— the deeper cuts, stab wound and broken ribs. Zayn can't help the small voice that points out that even when they cooperate as one, it's still Liam to take the brunt.

“I told you I'm fine.” Liam rolls down his vest, sitting up. He rows his arm in a circle, whilst clutching to his shoulder. “It’s nothing a good warm-up won't fix.”

“Wha’ you need is _sleep_ , you fit nerd,” Zayn corrects.

Honestly. Is there a mode to Liam's brain that's _not_ training or fulfilling duties? Looking back, Zayn now knows why he's felt so compelled to clear those ghouls’ trials. He himself had become a fitness nerd. _Goddess_.

“Yeah, yeah,” Liam agrees, though his general tone is as dismissive as his barrel roll off bed. “Ring me if you need anything, okay?”

“Stay.”

The words come out effortlessly. Zayn himself doesn't realise it till he follows Liam’s stare to his hand tugging at Liam's vest. He then retracts his hand with haste, and watches Liam take his spot back on the mattress.

“Do you wanna talk?”

Talk? Yeah. _No._ Wait. Perhaps? He's not sure. Just now, his body simply _moved_. Somewhere in between hearing Liam's words and processing he'd be alone, his lips and arms reacted by themselves. Like a dead Skulltula's legs, kicking past its final moment.

Zayn takes a deep breath. “I can't be lonely tonight.”

The warm palm on Zayn's doesn't burn his skin like his mind makes it seem. He's sure of it. Yet, he can't not shudder at the touch, and only melts further when it cups his face. He leans into it fully. Abandoning himself into the comfort their flames offer.

And then, there's more warmth. Candid, gentle. It envelops him, pulling him into like gravity to celestial bodies. He doesn't question it; just abandons himself and lets nature run its course. Something tells him he wouldn't want to resist it, either way.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Liam whispers in his ear, and it becomes a new order to his limbs to hug back, to cling to Liam's back.

Their embrace transitions into a cuddle with little effort. There's no exchange of words, orally or mentally. Eventual strumming of fingers is all both get, layered between invisible doodles on each other's skins.

Zayn breaks their almost silence first.

“I missed this.” He runs his palm smooth over the folds of Liam's vest. “There's no pillow better than your chest. Well, except for Wolfie, but that's ‘cos I could sink in his fur.”

The shifting under his cheek tells him Liam has tilted sideways, and he, too, angles his head.

“You wanted me to stay a wolf?”

Liam's cocked eyebrow and tone make his question genuine. It doesn't register with Zayn that he's pulling his leg, at least.

Zayn shakes his head, or tries to, since he doesn't take it off Liam's chest. “There's a lot of stuff I can't do when you're like tha’.”

“Like what?”

A non-verbal reply works better, thus Zayn pushes himself up and nuzzles their noses together. He just doesn't expect the hand that keeps himself in place, less than an inch between their faces. He loses himself in the scarlet of Liam's eyes, craves nothing more than diving into them.

“What else?” Liam asks in a low voice. Where Zayn's hand lay on his chest, his heart has sped up noticeably.

“This,” Zayn replies, going for a second nuzzle, but this time he lets their lips brush together.

The same question comes up again, and again he rubs their noses together. He grows a little bolder, making the brush of their lips less ghostly.

On the third question, he rubs his nose against Liam's, whilst pushing forwards and angling his head till his lips seal over Liam's. Only when there’s movement against his skin, he moves his own lips. And a little more to taste Liam on his tongue. Slow and deep.

“I've missed you, too,” Liam admits upon breaking their kiss.

The questions are here, in both their eyes. But night has long fallen, and after today's events, they deserve some rest. Liam even more than Zayn, since he's recovering from graver wounds. And once they peel their shirts off, they spoon their way into dreamland.

“Night, _Leeyum_.”

“Goodnight, babe.”

#

Sunlight floods the room. Liam groans, one hand shielding his eyes from luminosity. At first, he wonders why there's even light. Then the answer comes in the form of his hand curling and uncurling his fingers— it's no longer a paw.

That's right. He's back at Hyrule. He's back at home, and— _Shit_.

He nearly flings himself out of bed, leaping away from a shirtless Zayn. To make things worse, there’s a tent in his underpants that refuses to go down.

“Daft, daft, daft, daft, daft!” he chants, raking his hair back and forth with hard fingers.

Last night comes to him in small pieces, like a story read in a book. They've bathed, eaten, and—once Zayn begged him to stay—slept together. Which wouldn't be unusual for them, or any harm, except for everything before sleeping.

If he closes his eyes, he can evoke sensations from his memories. Soft lips on his, curious and careful, followed by a shy tongue seeking to explore his mouth. And how he instigated and allowed it all.

 _Fuck_. He jerks his hand away upon realising it's touched his lips of its own accord. Is this because he'd stayed a wolf for too long? Sure, he remembers vaguely licking Zayn's face those days and getting kisses on his muzzle. The crucial difference is that both believed him to be a wolf. Unlike now.

“Great, Liam!” he tells himself. “Your king asks you one thing, and you fuck it up!”

Because ‘protect my son’ and ‘shove your tongue down his throat’ sound marginally similar, yeah. _Oh fuck._

Along with the vivid images of their indiscretion come Zayn's words, and the main reason for Liam to stay. He can't tell if Zayn himself noticed it, but his phrasing last night had been specific: _“I can't be lonely tonight.”_ Not _‘want’_ nor _‘alone’_. He'd used _‘be’_ and _‘lonely’_.

Thing is, Zayn is strong. Stronger than he imagines, too. Liam knows this. But he’s also aware of all the pressure on them. After that breakdown after visiting Zora's Domain, it's clear Zayn blames himself for things out of their control. Repeated tragedies will take a toll, mentally and physically.

If Liam cannot support him at this time, offer some comfort, what's the point of his knighthood?

However, last night hadn't been about titles or duties. He simply saw Zayn, his best mate, openly admitting to missing him. No news here, yeah. Yet, it's hit unexpectedly. He'd stared into those whiskey eyes, and the questions escaped his lips one after another, till all he knew was Zayn's warmth on his lips, and then in his mouth.

Liam returns home to visit Granddad Sayed. This kind of situation asks for elderly advice. Chances are a marble statue can’t, but still he goes.

Though less eerie in the morning, the silence that permeates Kakariko village remains unsettling. This place, once bustling with activity, is now a ghost town. Empty streets and closed down business. Without the villagers to clean up, the houses and pavement show signs of moss.

He pushes the door, sucking his bottom lip in. Somewhere in his heart, he foolishly expects the clang of mallet against metal, despite knowing better. Today, there’s no such noise.

“Granddad,” he says, nodding at the stone figure of an elderly elf with a surprised expression. “I did something bad. Very bad.”

Naturally, there's no answer. As much as he wishes for one—even some scolding—he gets none. It's okay, though. Venting will suffice. And once he’s done, has put it into words, he breathes with a lighter chest.

Time to go back to the castle. But before he does, he dusts his granddad’s stone form off, and picks new flowers for the vase by the window. The ones in it have long died, relapsed to no one's care.

“Yeah, we should eat something.” He pats his stomach. “I doubt Zed’s awake.”

#

Zayn's rush to the nearest mirror is understandable. The brief moment before realising he's himself, all air leaves his lungs empty.

His own face greets him. No switching, merging, stealing, swapping of bodies in his sleep. Good. It means normality has stayed with him.

Unlike _certain_ people.

Things must be all right on Liam's end, too. Usually, he'd lick Zayn's cheeks and mouth to wake him up. No waking up licks today means Liam hasn't turned back into Wolfie, either.

He frowns at his own reflection. “Where's tha’ doughnut—”

“What about me?”

There’s no ill intention in Zayn’s reaction. Still, he swats the tray off Liam's hands. Eggs and sliced fruits fly up, whilst he slips on honey and falls.

Except that an arm around his waist prevents his fall, and the other one swiftly picks everything on their way down.

“I can get some more honey, but the omelettes would be a wee harder,” he tells Zayn, exhaling upon seeing their food safe. “On the bright side, you're sweeter now.”

First, Zayn gasps. What with the insane reflexes? Then, Liam's pun hits him like an Octorok shot. And it’s not funny, and even a little bad, but he can't contain a laugh. Much to his and Liam's surprise.

Liam's whole face lights up. That boyish smile of his when he's _stoked_ about something. A perfect mix of mischievous, pure, and gleeful.

“You loved it,” he says. “You totally loved it.”

“That you didn't let me fall flat on my arse, yeah.” Zayn straightens himself up. “Definitely not your corny pun.”

Two flicks quickly do away with the sweet mess, and even quicker is Liam to return with more honey. It's a simple meal compared to what Zayn usually eats behind these walls, but nowhere less delicious. Because it may be a simple meal, but it's been prepared with evident care.

Or maybe it's the fact that Zayn requests Liam to feed him.

“You've eaten off my hand for months,” he reminds Liam, keeping his mouth open. “There's nothing weird.”

Liam sighs. He dips a slice of apple in honey, letting the golden thread drip back into the cup.

“I was a _wolf_.” He brings the caramelised fruit to Zayn's lips. “You keep leaving that part out.”

True, but little does Zayn care for technicalities— it doesn't change that he's fed Liam, for who knows how many weeks. Right now, he'll enjoy this pampering. A little too eager, as he misses Liam's hand by a little and smears his mouth.

“Oopsie _daiseh_.”

Liam shakes his head, readily wiping the mess with his thumb. “But _I'm_ the doughnut one, right?”

Is it possible to envy a finger? Watching Liam suck the honey off it, Zayn almost gets his answer. Because his eyes focus on how lips wrap around and slide over the skin, ending in a loud _pop_.

Have Liam's lips always been this obscene, or has last night shifted Zayn's perception? Might as well be that he's spent too much time without looking at them.

“Here.” Liam offers another slice of honey-dipped apple. “Eat proper, you royal prick.”

Which likely doesn't mean _“take my whole finger into your mouth”_ though it's what Zayn does, anyway. He goes well past the apple, and takes a third of Liam's forefinger into his mouth, suckling on it. His eyes never leave Liam's, and the satisfaction of having his lips stared down jolts straight to his groin.

“Really sweet,” he says, munching on the apple. He gives Liam's knuckles a few more licks, and the honey is gone from it now. “Yeah, I definitely love it.”

Liam vanishes from the bed. When Zayn locates him again, he stands by the door, both hands covering himself. His eyes are wide, and for a moment they flash silver instead of scarlet. Or that's the impression Zayn gets, any way.

“I'll go dick some cleaning stuff. Meet me near Ifra.” His eyes then grow even wider. “Pick! I mean _pick_ cleaning stuff!”

Zayn pricks some omelette with a fork. “Wha’ now?”

He finishes breakfast, then clears his thoughts in a much-needed cold bath. He'd invite Liam, but... the idea wouldn’t be well-received. Curiosity also speaks louder, since Liam has instructed him to meet near Ifra’s statue. His debate on whether putting clothes or not is short, and eventually he meets Liam in just underpants and a vest.

“Let's clean them up,” Liam says, holding a cloth out for him. “We’re training after that.”

Zayn cycles his gaze between the cloth in Liam's hand, buckets with soapy water, and Ifra’s moss-covered face. Cleaning... okay, weird though necessary. But training? Training _what_ , exactly?

“We're training your sword arm,” Liam replies, as if reading his mind. “The sword you have now is a bit different from the one you used before.”

 _Oh._ Midna's present. That's right. He'd forgotten about it. Rather, he hasn't given it much thought, and only considered it a memento from their days in the Twilight Kingdom.

“We start after we're finished here?” he asks, to which Liam nods curly. “Let me try something first...”

The water in the bucket overflows into five humanoid forms.

“We’ll make it quick,” he tells Liam.

#

Their training session is both a disaster and a success, though difficult to determine how much of each. It's a success because Zayn has retained his muscle memory. Everything else is a disaster because Midna's influence has corrupted him.

“Never thought I'd cross swords with you one day.”

“Thrust with your hips.”

“Well, mine is thicker than yours.”

“Trust me: hard is better.”

“You're not ready for me yet.”

“The day I'll give you my all, you'll be moaning on the ground.” “Why are you so open for me?”

Zayn can hear Midna's cackle on every occasion, and every time his body responds to Liam’s words. The fact that Liam says all these with a straight face, too, only makes it worse, because it means they’re not even intentional. Whenever Liam trains, he takes it seriously.

They stop for lunch, rest a bit, and then train half into the afternoon. That's when Zayn suggests they look into something nagging on his mind.

Partially because he needs escape from Liam's hard coaching. Partially because he wants to focus on something besides sweaty muscles.

And so, they return to the Lost Woods. It’s the perfect opportunity to upgrade Liam’s equipment and ask about Navi. If somebody can find a tiny fairy in this large continent, it should be the Great Fairy Queen.

There’s more to Zayn’s intentions, but he decides to keep it from Liam, for the time being.

“My, my! Don’t you two look more handsome since your last visit?” Cotera muses, eyeing them up and down. She breaks into another of her terrifying cackles, then poises her chin on the back of her hand. “There’s _definitely_ something different about your Mana, my Hylian prince.”

“A lot has happened, Your Majesty,” Zayn replies. “We’re here today to enlist your help, if you would allow me such bluntness.”

Cotera’s eyes sparkle, as she bends forwards, over the ledge of her pond.

“Is it a full-body massage, my darling?” she asks, unbothered to hide her eagerness.

“N-No! That’s not tha’...” Zayn clears his throat. She’s changed nothing, it seems. “We need to locate a friend... one of your subjects.”

Whilst Cotera works on Liam’s pouch, Zayn explains how they lost Navi. She does quick work, too. By the time Zayn finishes his update, she’s enhanced Liam’s tunic, sword, and his rapier as a bonus.

“Anything else?” Cotera asks, batting her long eyelashes. She snaps her fingers, and the image she’s shown them of a village among the snow vanishes. “That massage offer still stands, just so you know.”

Liam fails to keep a straight face. Of course, he does. Zayn doesn’t need to look at him to know he titters behind him. But it’s endearing enough that Cotera herself also laughs, and so it works for Zayn’s interests.

“Do you know anything about the Interloper War?”

Cotera’s face grows ashen, and her wide smile vanishes. Her posture also becomes stiffer, as she ditches her leisurely slouch for an alert instance. She scrutinises Zayn’s face in absolute silence, searching for something he cannot pinpoint.

“I see.” She fiddles with jade petals of her necklace, narrowing her eyes. “Also a little bit wiser, aren’t we?”

Honesty is a good option as always. Zayn figures if he wants information, he can’t withhold any himself. Her words from their first encounter leaves no doubt; she knows. And her reaction just now only confirms it.

He tells Queen Cotera everything about their time in the Twilight Kingdom. Midna’s enigmatic words. Zant’s hatred for the Royal Family. The arena veiled by Gerudo’s Desert’s sands. Every detail he can think of, and can’t really connect, he reports.

“All I can say is that you’re on the right trail, Hylian prince,” Queen Cotera says, once Zayn finishes his tale. “But if you want to know more—what _really_ happened—I’d suggest visiting the current head of the Sheikah clan.”

That would be Impa, Liam’s mentor and paternal figure, if Zayn recalls it correctly. He remembers her face in the crowd, during the tournament, but not among the statues at the castle.

“You have a cute Sheikah boy with you. Reaching their village shouldn’t be an issue,” she adds.

Maybe she's missed the part where Hylian-Sheikah relations stand in shambles. Yes, his dad has been working on straightening bonds with them, but it doesn't mean it’s happened yet. To his knowledge, no Hylian has ever visited the Lost Village, except for Liam's mum. Plus, he reckons Liam can't just waltz in there with him in tow.

“With all due respect, Your Majesty,” he begins, glancing briefly at Liam, “Perhaps we should reconsider that thought?

“I believe in change, my sweet Hylian Prince,” she replies. Each of her index fingers come to rest on his and Liam's head, and she turns their heads, so they face each other. “You two _are_ change. The bond that unites you, as well. You just don't realise that yet.”

Liam gives him a sheepish smile.

“You don't live for a couple of millennia without learning this kind of thing.” She puts her hands to their shoulders, but in reality it's just her thumb. “I'm sure you'll give a spectacular king one day.”

If she says so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Modulga: Whale-sized sand fish that dwells under the sands of Gerudo Desert.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	6. Evening

**VI**

At dawn, they depart to Sheikah Village. Rather, they _sneak_ into Sheikah Village. Zayn only _half_ agrees with Liam's idea. But since no better ideas come up, this is their best option: to smuggle a sedated Zayn into the lost village. (As per Sheikah law, its location must remain secret to outsiders, and Liam has already assumed too many risks by taking a Hylian there.)

The sun shines softly by the time the sleeping potion wears off. Although Zayn doesn’t wake up to Wolfie’s face in the morning, puppy eyes still greet him. He blinks the lingering drowsiness away, writhing in his sleeping bag. Only then he focuses on the wide grin above him.

“You were challenged to a sword duel,” Liam tells him. “We’re visiting Impa after you win.”

Goddess. Zayn hates him. No, that’s not right. What he hates is, when Liam gives him such earnest eyes and speaks with all this conviction, he wants to believe him. He actually believes him, rather.

He sighs, shedding his cocoon. “Starting to think I’m the reckless one...”

Liam’s face lights up, and it shouldn’t be any surprise.

“Fetch the training swords for me, okay, love?” he tells two toddlers, who then vanish and reappear with a wooden sword each. “You’re so much faster now! Can probably beat me!”

The little boys giggle to each other, before they vanish back to the crowd. Zayn isn’t the only one smitten with Liam’s encouragement.

The thought that he believes Liam like literals toddlers do _is_ somewhat worrisome, though. Slightly less than all these people watching him passed out in the middle of the plaza.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Zayn juts his chin in the direction of a ginger guy that, were Liam not here, would likely butcher him and throw his pieces to Wolvos. “The one wringing my neck with his eyes?”

Lima chuckles. “He can’t do that. Don’t worry.”

Must be a great feeling to _not_ be on the end of a murderous glare. Good for him, Zayn supposes.

“No hitting vitals, or anyone’s _unmentionables_ ,” Liam instructs them. His eyes never leave the bloke’s, when it’s actually Zayn’s first time doing this. “Anybody not following the rules will regret it, all right, _Lars_?”

So, they're doing this. They're _really_ doing this. Lars’ eyes promise there won't be any holding back. He does seem to hold minimal respect for Liam's words, and this is the only assurance that he won't attempt to claim Zayn's life with a _stick_.

Zayn throws Liam a last glance, being met with a curt nod and a tiny smile. Yeah. _Somebody_ has to be positive about this. Granted, that's just how Liam is: 75% optimism, 25% recklessness.

“Ready?” Liam asks. He holds an arm up, giving them a quick glance. “At my signal, you two start.”

Zayn takes this time to assume a fighting instance. The borrowed sword comes close to his face, and he takes a step behind, forming a T with his feet. _Deep breaths. You can do it._

 _“_ Ready... Go!”

Lars lunges with a thrust that narrowly misses Zayn's shoulder. He follows up with two more slashes that Zayn evades by teleporting.

From his position, Zayn catches a glimpse of a smug Liam nodding.

“Nightshade Arts,” Lars begins a circular path around Zayn. Slow at first, then picking up speed with each full circle. “Autochory.”

One Lars becomes two, that becomes four, that then becomes eight. They continue to circle Zayn with their swords ready. Only one can be real, since this isn't magic, but that makes no difference when copies and the real one attack at once.

“Bright Arts,” Zayn reverses his grip on his swords and waits. Every Lars vanishes. Then reappear overhead, swords high. “Blossom!”

Zayn drops to one knee before the wooden blades reach him. He plants his sword to the ground and light bursts out. Only one Lars casts a shadow. _There_.

An accurate thrust connects to Lars’ forearm. Lars loses his grip, but it's not enough to warrant his defeat. He uses the back of Zayn's sword as support, and backflips to retrieve his blade before landing.

“He's cheating! He's using magic!” he yells to Liam.

 _No, I'm not, knobhead,_ Zayn wants to say, but he doesn't feel like adding wood to the fire. He's used a little burst of Mana. That's all. He's figured it's an alternative to what Liam does with his vital force.

Liam, in turn, waves it off. “Physical abilities are fine,” he says. “Carry on, lads.”

This is the tipping for Lars from animosity to _wrath_. After Liam's words, he attacks relentlessly, sometimes even aiming at Zayn's eyes. His speed, whilst lower than Liam's, still forces sequential teleports to evade his attacks. It doesn't seem like he can win, but the same can be said for Zayn.

_Nobody wins by playing safe._

Zayn parries Lars’ sword, then kicks him away.

_Fight to defeat them, if you want to win._

He wonders if this configures cheating. Because Liam isn't supposed to give him tips, especially not in his mind. But neither should Zayn fight for an audience, and look at him now.

_Is tha’ wha’ you think every time you try to get yourself killed?_

_Mostly, yeah._

Whether this advice lacks sense or not, that's for Zayn to decide later. For now, he needs to win. He seeks victory to back up his words and intentions. He thirsts for success, for being worthy of Liam's trust, in more than just one way.

Lars attacks again. Instead of blocking it, Zayn slides the fuller of his sword along Lars’ blade, following the swing rather than opposing it. This causes Lars to lose balance, and he slides between Lars’ legs to attack from a blind spot.

Two slashes and two thrusts. Lars drops his sword, clutching his shoulder.

“Surrender,” Zayn says, placing his sword against Lars' neck. His arm stings with the movement, as it's taken the full blow earlier. “There's no need to hurt each other further.”

“Prince Zayn wins the duel,” Liam announces.

The crowd goes silent. Deafeningly silent. Only now Zayn realises how much they've been cheering and rooting for their brother. But now, Lars punches the ground, defeated, and his face is sullied in dirt— Zayn doesn't expect them to accept him with open arms.

“What you're doing? Get off me!” Lars snarls.

“Shut it for a minute, mate!” Zayn counters, pointing his palm to Lars’ back. Some Sheikah seem ready to intervene, and only stop when Liam holds an arm out to block their way. “ _Shabnam-e-rooh_.”

The glowing water orb undoes itself. Zayn stands up and picks his sword with him. From Lars widened eyes, he assumes his spell has worked.

“I didn't ask for your help, _Hylian_.”

Zayn recognises this. The distrust in Lars’ eyes mirrors what he's seen so many times directed at Liam. He can't say he blames Lars, but... He's weary of glares and scowls. And it’s been what, an hour? For Liam, it's been over two decades. Their entire lives.

“I don't help because I'm asked to.” He turns on his heels, making his way to Liam and a toddler clinging to him. “Is he a prick all the time, or do I get special treatment?”

Liam laughs. “I'm afraid it's both.”

“Great.”

“C'mon. Lana said she'll heal you,” Liam says, shaking the little girl till she giggles. “You don't say no to the best healer in this whole world!”

And, okay... Zayn doesn't know how to take it. One on hand, she's, like, three— four, at most. On the other hand, these are the people that taught Liam all he knows, including that vanishing thing he does.

Some baby healer doesn't sound _that_ unlikely. Especially a blue-haired one.

“Pretty, pretty, pretty!” Lana babbles, her tiny hands squishing (or trying to, at least) Zayn's face. “Prettyyyyyyy!”

Liam grins wide. Phenomenally wide. Zayn is half of a mind that he'll end up with strained face muscles.

“I know, right?!” he beams at his toddler companion. “You won't find anyone that wins. Trust me: I've been everywhere. I know what I’m talking about,” he adds in a serious tone, then blows raspberries onto her stomach.

A thought freezes the blood in Zayn’s veins.

Oh Goddess. What if she's Liam's daughter? Zayn remembers asking him about a lover, but not about _kids_. Sure most people don't have kids with strangers, but what _if_?

There's adoption, too. You don't need to make a baby yourself to have a kid. You just need to raise one. And if his childhood memories are any accurate, Liam adopted a bunch of injured birds, back in their days. Proper nourished them till they could fly again.

Not that a kid is a bird, but Liam's love is the common denominator here.

Lana grabs Zayn's arm, her eyes mellowing from scarlet to a pale lilac. She shuts down completely, only breathing slowly. She doesn't blink, she doesn't smile, and save from her soft touch, there's no telling between her and the petrified ones at Hyrule castle.

“What's she doing?” he asks Liam, a little more panicked than intended.

Again, Liam grins. Can he even do anything else, honestly? His smile always prompts fluttering in Zayn's stomach, but— _come on._ Now's _not_ the time.

“Synchronising with your spirit. She's telling your body to heal faster,” he explains. "The pain will be gone in a moment.”

Indeed, it does. Gradually, but surely, a light numbness spreads through Zayn's left arm. Lana’s eyelids droop, and she collapses limp against Liam's chest.

“She'll be fine in a bit,” Liam reassures him, and by such carefree reaction, this must be a recurring occurrence. “Give her five minutes, and she's new again.”

That's when Lars stomps his way to them and takes small Lana from Liam. He mumbles something unintelligible, then stomps away.

“His dad was part of the scout with Dad and Mum.” Liam sighs. “He thinks he'd still be alive if he hadn't left to visit Hyrule.”

 _Group? Scout?_ All Zayn knows is what he's heard from Liam and that Liam's mum was found mauled near the entrance to castle town. She once had a group with her, but he's pretty sure those people returned to Hyrule, whereas Liam's mum disappeared— assuredly into the Sheikah Village.

Zayn jogs after Liam, having noticed how far ahead Liam is.

“Oi! Where we're going?”

Liam points somewhere ahead of them. “My room. You'll feel drowsy too.”

There's a small hutch at the end of the trail they follow. On each side there's a flower bed with blue nightshades in it. Small and simple, but also cosy-looking and taken care of.

“You own a house?!”

“It's Dad's, but—” he shrugs “—I suppose it’s mine now.”

Walking will take them precious minutes when Zayn needs to see it _now_. He doesn't think twice before teleporting them to the front door. His eagerness must be too blatant, as Liam keeps shaking his head and chuckling.

“It's nothing special,” he warns, entering a number combination on some kind of pad by the doorknob. The lack of a key hole doesn't escape Zayn's attention. “I suppose a history nerd might have fun, though.”

The number pad emits a red glow that switches to green next. Liam steps in when the door slides to the side. Zayn senses no Mana flowing from this odd contraption.

Liam quirks his eyebrows. “Come on in. Don't be shy!”

With two claps, Liam brings forth light. Again, no trace of magic involved. Zayn tries not to gape at it, but it’s impossible not to. Seeing all this he can't not be reminded of that slate Midna gifted to Liam.

“You can put your stuff here,” Liam says. He places his sword on a holster on the wall, then proceeds to do the same with his shield and pouch. “Should probably ask Leif to make me one to put in my room back home.”

Zayn places his rapier between Liam's shield and a glowing sword. His curiosity must give him away, because Liam picks the lit blade and holds its handle out for him.

He takes it. “Not magic, I suppose?”

“It's really old, actually,” Liam replies. He pops the Twili Slate out of his pouch. “Impa says we forgot how to make a lot of stuff. Like, _a lot_ of cool stuff no one can build any more.”

Zayn nods. The sword in his hand is light, perhaps lighter than his rapier, despite its broader blade. It emits this soft, blue glow, generates no heat whatsoever. Liam explains that while it's fast and powerful, it loses energy with use and then it's no more than a common blade. Still impressive, nonetheless.

“Come. I'll show you the place,” Liam tells him, holding a hand out till he catches it.

There aren't many rooms to the house, but in no way it implies a lack of comfort. On ground level there's the main room and a kitchen. Unlike the one back at the castle, the oven is all metal and runs on electricity. What Zayn knows as a cold pantry here is a metallic box that keeps food frozen magic-free.

Next stop: top floor. Zayn finds a bedroom and a bathroom. He starts with the bathroom because this glass door is too unexpected to ignore. The same goes for the large tap on the wall that's just portable rain.

“Not sure why glass doors, though.” Liam shrugs. “Probably won't know, too.”

Only Liam's parents know the reason behind this exotic choice. Though Zayn must admit that watching Liam's form undress from behind a translucent door does have its appeal.

But it's the bedroom furniture to truly catch Zayn's eyes. Mostly for the pieces of story they tell. From the old bed that oversees the guardrail to the room below to the framed pictures on the bedside table. One of a couple, the other one of a little boy and a muscular man. The latter is somewhat familiar to Zayn.

 _Wait_.

He blinks. “Is tha’—?”

By Hylia. It is. He doesn't finish his sentence because he readily teleports the photo into his grip. On it, a scrawny boy bawls his eyes out, surrounded by Sheikah children and adults of concerned looks. To the right, in the same frame, but different pic, a shirtless Liam beams flexing chiselled biceps. His skin glistens in sweat, likely from an inhuman workout.

“I always forget you were small one day.” Zayn presses his forefinger to little Liam's crying face. “Hard to believe when you look like _this_ now.”

Liam giggle shrugs, and it's the worst (for Zayn, at least), because the little boy in curls comes forth. Past the bristly beard, hard muscle, and thick chest hair.

It should be illegal to retain this level of adorableness at his age, honestly.

“You say it like you don't like it.”

Zayn bites the inside of his cheek. It’s safer this way. Lest his tongue gets ahead of him and says anything compromising, he— _literally_ —bites it. Luckily, his body decides to cooperate for once, and a rather loud yawn escapes him.

“It's shower and bed for you, sleepy mouse.” Liam confiscates the portrait, setting it back on the table. “We’ll see Impa after you wake up.”

Protesting is useless, it seems. The extent of Lana’s abilities and Liam's forewarning hit hard. _Too_ hard. Zayn’s brain registers bits of actions and words. One moment he's naked, getting scrubbed in a bath. The next he's wrapped in Liam's smell and properly tucked away.

He can’t complain much.

#

Liam slides from under Zayn, careful to not wake him up. There's a familiar presence at his door that he needs to check. Otherwise, he'd have no trouble serving as Zayn's pillow for another hour.

Lana’s treatment is always effective, but the toll on both parties makes it unusable in battle, or in a dangerous situation. There should be no danger here, but in case anyone tries to lay a finger on Zayn, Liam won't hesitate cutting down his own people.

“I won't take long,” he whispers to an asleep Zayn, tucking raven hair behind an ear.

He shadesteps to the front door. There's a slight surprise to find Lars with Lana in his arms there, though also not really, when he thinks about it.

Lana immediately jumps from her brother's arms into his, squishing his face between her small palms.

“I don't suppose you’re here to visit Your Highness,” he says. “I don't think your shoulder isn't fixed, either— why the visit?”

Lars sneers at the comment. He scuffles at the stones at Liam's doorstep, never lifting his gaze.

“Tell him I recognise his ability. At least he has guts to get his hands dirty,” he eventually grunts. “Just don't think I've accepted him. Or his family.”

Liam inflates his cheeks and goes cross-eyed. Lana’s laughter has her shaking on his arms. She has always reminded him of himself in this regard. He bops her nose before passing her back to her brother.

"I know that's all he can get from you for now.” He squeezes Lars’ shoulder. “Be ready to change your opinion of him. Trust me.”

“Let's go, Lana,” Lars tells his little sister instead. He’s about to shadestep away, but then halts. “...Thanks for the healing, I guess.”

The smirk on Liam's face couldn't be smugger if he tried. Folding his arms, he leans against the entrance. Lars is notorious for his unreasonable pride. If he can admit this to Liam, at the very least he admits Zayn has strength.

Neither is news to Liam.

“ _You_ should tell him when he wakes up,” he says.

This time, Lars doesn't reply. He pulls the neck of his shirt over his mouth, probably as an excuse for not talking.

Lana waves both hands. “Liam, bye-bye! Bye-byyyye!”

“See you tomorrow, love,” he replies, scratching under her chin.

This is as close as Zayn can get of Lars’ approval. Given his deep resentment against the Royal Family, this is a good outcome. The Sheikah respect and believe in strength. That's what Zayn has proved today, before the whole village.

And then, there's Cotera’s cryptic speech to keep in mind on top of that prophecy. Can they really reshape these lands? Their journey approaches an end, despite the many detours. Yet, no sign of those prophesied four heroes. Even admitting Zayn is one, where are the remaining three?

“I hope Impa knows something,” he tells himself, locking the door.

#

“Don't forget: a million.” Liam turns to a slightly younger lad. “Leif, keep counting, please.”

Zayn frowns, watching Lars get into a single hand handstand, then start vertical pull ups on two _fingers_.

“Isn't tha’ too much?” he asks, and it's an understatement to say he's concerned for everyone involved. “Tha’? One million times, really?”

Liam blows his lips together. “He'll be fine. I even let him use _two_ fingers!”

There's a certain line into Liam's culture Zayn isn't ready to cross. Rather, he isn't sure if he'll ever _want_ to cross it. Because Ifra's training is bland in comparison to Impa’s. The only thing in his life that compares to, would be his sword training in the Twilight Realm. And that's because he'd been in a Sheikah body at the time.

He nods slowly. “If you say so, _Leeyum_...”

Once learning of Impa’s disappearance, there's nothing left for them in the Sheikah village. Time is good as always to resume their journey, and visit the location Cotera has pointed: the Rito tribe on the snowy mountains.

There, they hope to find Navi and the necessary ingredients for exploring the scorching Death Mountain.

They leave the Sheikah village just like they've arrived: Zayn drugged up in Liam's arms, like an elf croissant. Only when Liam pours him down does Zayn take it off.

High. So obscenely high. The peak remains hidden from this distance, shrouded in a snowstorm that even their elf eyes can't pierce.

"Why is it never at ground level?” Zayn groans. He lets his head dip back as guttural noises escape his mouth. “Just why?”

“It's called ‘Cold Safflina’.” Liam takes his scarf off, flapping it open. “I reckon it doesn't get colder than that.”

Although Zayn's eyes narrow, his lips twitch with a traitorous smile. It's true they won't find anywhere colder in the whole Termina, but still... _Ugh_. The thought of enduring this to later throw themselves into a burning pit offers even less comfort.

On the bright side, this is the perfect opportunity to wear his winter coat, as he doesn’t get many chances. Leif has also plaited his hair as a halo around his head, and he must say the result balances aesthetics with practicality.

Earrings and other metal close to their body all come off. Low temperatures increase the likelihood of a frostbite, and those will only hamper their progress through the mountains. Right now, they want to retain as much heat as—

“Uhh... _Leeyum_?”

Liam halts, just as his fingers dig inside the neck cut of his vest. “Hmm?”

“Wha’ are you doing?”

“Taking these off, of course.” He fishes his shirt off. “Can’t you see?”

Oh, but Zayn can see. He can see, _all right_. He can see how abs flex, further outlining marble-like muscles. Just like he can also see how the trousers lower a little, and some dark hair peeks over the waistband of white underpants. And, of course, he sees how Liam’s pecs do a slight bounce when both arms come back down again.

Trust that Zayn _can_ see.

“I wanted to test this,” Liam tells him. Once Zayn can break away from his daze, he notices the dark band Liam taps. “I don’t suppose I’ll fit in my clothes, so...”

Yup. It’s off with the Pegasus Boots, Liam’s trousers and underpants. At least he has the consideration of turning around whilst undressing. Though Zayn questions its effectiveness, since he’s left staring at a firm arse flexing every time Liam bends over to pull a trouser leg off.

The worst, however, is yet to come.

“Wolf change! Hyah!” Liam punches his left fist in the air. He follows it with chopping moves, flailing his arms around heavenwards. “Wolf me! Turn Wolf!”

It’s only when he starts leaping—and consequently flopping about, because no underwear—that Zayn has to step up. Because he also has to stop the loud slapping that’s Liam against his own skin.

“ _Leeyum_ , _Leeyum!_ Babe!” he frantically calls holding both hands out. Liam stops, and fortunately so does the dry slapping. “Wha’ _exactly_ are you trying to accomplish here?”

Liam cocks an eyebrow. “Trying the magic in this? Isn’t that how you do it?”

For a moment, Zayn worries about which moment did he jump around with his dick whacking his stomach. For real. But then he’s reminded that Liam has never watched him train, nor has undergone magic training himself, so this is all a pretty wild guess. The wildest he’s ever seen, to be honest.

“This—” he motions his hands up and down to Liam’s naked body “—is _not_ how you do it. _Trust me_.”

‘Magic’ isn't the word for it, if Zayn has to guess it. Although he doesn't doubt Midna's powers, the nature of the Twilight matter is more akin to a _curse_. Add the fact that it reverted Liam to a pure wolf, and it pretty much solidifies his hypothesis. There are mystical properties to it, but unlike Mana, it's energy _and_ matter.

“Incantation helps focus on an image, and image gives form to power.” The twig in his hand draws a star on the ground, that he then encircles with a sun. “It's not much different from using your sword techniques, really. We need a name.”

Liam nods. The way his brow creases is a bit too endearing for his own good.

“What's wrong with ‘Wolf Change’?”

This is a work in progress that has just started.

“It's...” Zayn nibbles his bottom loop. His options are either lying, or hurting Liam's feelings. “How ‘bout... ‘Soul Howl’?”

“Soul Howl.”

“Yeah. Soul Howl,” he repeats.

And he waits for a response, watching Liam visibly mull it over. It seems he's not getting one, till Liam stands up with a leap, arm clutched to his chest.

Liam holds out his left arm, still clutched, palm facing forwards. One, two, three deep breaths. His eyes close slowly and a purple glow begins to pulse on his bracelet. When he opens them again, they're silver.

“Soul Howl.”

A dark shadow leaps out of the bracelet, devouring Liam with a large mouth and equally large fangs. The resulting purple flash blinds Zayn briefly, and when he opens his eyes again, he stands before a wolf of dark grey fur and silver eyes.

_It worked, babe! It's so much easier when people teach you._

The wolf jumps on all fours, then howls.

“Wolfie?” Zayn shakes his head. That's not quite it. “ _Leeyum_?” he tries again.

Wolfie Liam tackles him down, giving his face a thorough lick.

_Sorry. Something keeps telling me to lick your face._

At least their link works this time. It should go easier when they both speak the same language.

_Hop on. We're climbing this mountain._

#

Altitude proves their greatest adversary. Air thins up the closer they get to the summit, requiring small breaks to adapt their breathing. Wolfie Liam does it at a quicker rate, but it's hard for Zayn to tell what's the human or the wolf merit.

_There's a cave ahead. Let's wait out the storm._

Zayn waits by the entrance till a naked Liam comes back for him. The screeching heard outside explains Keese wings and eyes loitering the cave. He already knows where this is going, so he throws Liam's pouch back at him— it's farming time.

Zayn’s sceptre lights up, a warm glow-like sunlight illuminating the cave.

“We should eat something,” he says.

This is more of an order than a proper suggestion. They've covered a great distance thanks to Wolfie Liam's speed. About two thirds, Zayn estimates. They've already run into snow. The peak can't stay farther than the ground they've covered. But this also means it'll only get harder from here on.

“We shouldn't— I mean, I'm starkers.” Liam motions to the half of a blanket Zayn holds open for him. “It's, uh, not really...”

Oh, _now_ he minds his nudity? Funny that this thought escaped when he decided to strip down and bend over at the foot of the mountain.

“I've seen everything from every angle already.” Zayn pulls him down, arm and blanket tight around Liam's shoulders. He confiscates the pouch and pops some rations borrowed from the castle’s pantry. “Even with tha’ fluffy fur of yours, it's cold as balls outside.”

Liam glances down on himself.

“Oh Goddess. I mean _Wolfie's fur_!” Zayn corrects. “Not your _..._ _man hair_.”

That's another factor to consider: Liam's transformation. If possible, Zayn would like to study the bracelet and the effects of Twilight. No, he doesn't believe Midna would purposefully harm Liam. Even so, side effects are common for many things in the universe. And again, this isn't the sort of magic he’s familiar with.

The snowstorm eventually dies out. Time for some more climbing. Zayn still tries to dissuade Liam from shifting, but Liam insists that they reach the Rito before sunset. (Even if it's mostly irrelevant, once clouds and snow block sunlight.)

_Another storm is coming..._

Wolfie Liam sniffs the air. It glances right and left, searching for something.

_No caves nearby... We must run._

The prospect that they _haven't_ been running worries Zayn a little. Because, what does Liam consider ‘running’? Maintaining a good grip on his mane already takes all of Zayn’s strength. If his wolf form can run any faster, then... that's a problem.

_Hold on tight, babe._

“Wha’ you think I've been doing?” Zayn asks. “No, seriously. I can't—”

Turns out he can, in fact. Because the next moment Wolfie Liam sprints, as if one with the wind. Rocks, threes, and branches all blur together for Zayn. He can’t tell the world apart till they stand at the foot of the tallest, thickest trees he's ever seen.

“It's here,” he checks their location with the one pinned on the map displayed on the screen of the Sheikah slate. “You think...”

They live on these tall trees.

 _For Tingle’s sake!_ After all this climbing, they now climb trees? Why nowhere does it say the Rito live atop trees? Or why has no one clarified that, either?

A sudden snowstorm howls and blows over them. The towering woods, before then a minute ago, disappear under a mantle of white and hissing. All of their surroundings, in fact.

Liam wobbles under Zayn's weight. He's back to human form, completely bare among the snow and ice.

“ _Leeyum—_?”

“There's something here,” Liam tells him, covering his mouth with a hand. “Smells like fresh blood.”

Indeed, Zayn briefly picks on footprints nearby. Careful, as if whatever makes them tries to stay inconspicuous. They also disappear no longer after he notices them.

All of Liam's equipment appears on him with a single wave of his Sheikah Slate, and Zayn wonders what other functions this device has. He has his sceptre close to his chest, and presses his back to Liam's. This way, they won't get ambushed from a blind spot.

They need to locate and restrain their foe.

Zayn holds his sceptre pressed to his palm, closing his eyes.

“Fair maiden cloaked in snow,

Frost is your crown and blizzard is your mantle,

Weep, lament, shatter.”

He raises his sceptre above his head.

“Breathe out the everlasting winter and bestow cold slumber.” He points his glowing sceptre forwards. “Nayru Spell: Ice Valkyrie.”

Azure light pours. The falling snow halts mid-air. Their path towards the ground is reoriented, and now Zayn and Liam become the epicentre of a circular blizzard.

 _There!_ He tilts his sceptre to his left, commanding the blizzard to converge in the same direction. A long-haired giant woman of snow appears, freezing herself into a perfect cube on the spot. The snowstorm halts as she disappears inside her ice casket.

“I guess these gems really make things easier.” Zayn whistles, studying his sceptre. When he looks up, he finds Liam gaping at him. “Wha’?”

“N-Nothing...” He sheathes his sword and puts his shield to his back. “That was brill, really.”

Zayn nods. Nothing intelligent comes to him, and a ‘thank you’ sounds... conceited, maybe? People do say thank you when praised, if they can't say anything else, yet his skin crawls just by letting the words rest on his tongue. Good manners be damned, he supposes.

“Wha’ was tha’ thing really?” he asks instead, sauntering to the block of ice he's created. He puts his face to the flat surface, shielding around his eyes for a better look. “I hope I didn't get a person. _Tha_ ’ would be bad.”

A man on a horse. That's the impression Zayn gets at first glance. His eyes adapt to the light, and then he realises both man and horse are _one_.

A frame that's worth three or four Liams, which in itself is already impressive because Liam's physique is no joke. Height-wise, the man is twice as tall as Zayn. His horse half is also buffer than a regular horse, like Barda or Epona. A broken leg often means death for a horse, but these are firmly covered in muscle and won't break that easily, if ever. Zayn blinks.

“I think it's a Lynel,” he says over his shoulder to Liam. “It matches what I've read.”

Zayn peers into the ice again, and something inside it flashes. A red flash. Before he knows it, Liam appears in front of him, and the ice shatters into several chunks.

A crimson-stained Liam struggles to support himself on his sword. Zayn tries to reach Liam, but then it dawns on him: his arm doesn’t obey him. Rather, none of his body does. He can't lift a finger, as a shock sears through his flesh.

The snow under himself, he notices, gains a cerulean tint that steadily flows out of him.

#

“Zed! Zed!” Liam bellows. “Babe, answer me!”

There's no answer. If not unconscious from the impact, blood loss surely has done it, as the characteristic blue of a Hylian seeps into the snow. Liam stares at the foe breaking free from the ice.

It's not that Zayn's spell lacked power. Chances are, it'd be the end for many others, including other Lynels, despite their renowned strength. This Lynel, he's different, Liam knows this. In the deepest of his being, he knows it. He doesn’t need to smell the thousands of different blood smells on that thing’s face.

He glances down at his shield arm. Obliterated. It only swings back from the blow endured; not because he still reigns over it. Actually, he only knows it's still attached to his body because he sees it. There’s no feeling to it. Though that might be for the best, because his bones have been reduced to splinters.

“You're not taking anyone else from me,” Liam hisses, ditching his shield. He'd ditch his left arm, too, but this one he cannot simply pick up after the fight. “Came to finish your job proper, you dick?”

The Lynel roars, crushing the ice around its forelegs under a rock club.

Golden fur striped with cream. Large goat horns. Mane and beard white as pure snow. A physique to stir envy in the fittest of the warriors, on top of oversized weapons. Abundant blade scars. Not man nor beast, it lives for the thrill of a battle and nothing else.

This fur tone can’t lie. A mane that’s not the usual red, lilac, or brown. The epitome of a power already ridiculous under normal circumstances, said to reign absolute the apex predator.

All this is what the Golden Lynel means to other people. To Liam, this is the reason he's been robbed of motherly love from his first day on this earth. At least he has King Yasser and his granddads as fatherly figures in life. There’s Impa, too, and he's grateful for everything she's taught him. But she only came into his life in his adolescence, and their relationship is more master-disciple than parent-child.

Liam twirls his sword in his hand. “You're mine.”

An all out assault from the very start. There's no point in saving his energy, if it costs him Zayn's life. He won't be able to defeat something that's ended his father without his full potential, either, so he bets everything in his strongest technique.

“Nightshade Arts,” he shadesteps to the Lynels blind spot, “Overwinter.”

However, his blade doesn't sink deeper than a few millimetres into the Lynel’s muscular neck. Maybe if he had the weight of both arms into his swing, yes. With his sword stuck and mid-air, he's an easy target for the heavy club to hurl him across the woods.

Breathing hurts. He has no idea how many of his ribs the last attack has claimed, but it surely includes a lung. This fire in his chest is not usual.

“Fucking hell,” he pants, trying to push himself up with just his legs and back. “This thing... is ridiculous!”

Did his dad really fight this thing alone? And even managed to buy his mum time to escape? _How?_

He's trained all his life to protect Zayn, to have a chance to avenge his parents. He's devoted himself to this specific moment, for just one chance to prove his existence. But now... now he's a jumble of broken bones and torn flesh. Unable to even lift a blade whilst someone dear bleeds their life away.

If he didn't survive that day for this moment, then _why_? Has everything been a cruel joke by the Goddesses? His eyelids become heavy, as the Golden Lynel’s imposing figure strides his way.

_“I'm not telling you to accept it. That'd be cruel.”_

Liam frowns. He opens his eyes again, and he's back at Impa's place. He catches a glimpse of the top of her silver hair, and realises he's floating on the ceiling. There's crying, too. Proper wailing that comes from a scrawny kid with a mop of curly hair on their head.

_Is that me?_

“But let me tell you this: one day you'll find something to protect. Something you want safe above anything else in the world,” Impa tells little Liam, placing a hand on his skinny shoulders. “That day, you'll understand why your dad gave his life to protect you. You'll truly understand your parents’ love for you right then. I promise.”

“They left me! They left me all alone!” Little Liam shouts! “They left me—” He swallows more tears. “Everybody hates me there!”

Liam bites his bottom lip. He'd forgotten this grudge he held against everyone in Hyrule. All the time he'd receive weird looks, or have whispering behind his back. His own granddad didn't warm up to him till they started living together. Looking back, he'd been his angriest when told to leave for the Sheikah Village, because then he'd be separated from Zayn and King Yasser. The only ones to treat him as a person from the start.

Yet, he'd kept everything inside, and reassured Zayn that he'd be fine. No matter how many times asked about it.

“That day will come,” Impa continues, pulling Liam into her arms. She hugs him till he calms down and stops thrashing about. “That will also be the day you'll be at your strongest. Nothing will be able to stop you. _Nothing.”_

Eyes open, he's back at the mountains, surrounded by snow. The Lynel keeps pushing in his direction and Zayn remains lifeless several feet away from him. He doesn't know how long has passed, but it doesn't seem like his memories have kept him out cold not for long.

“I promised to protect him.” He stands up precariously. His pain threshold must soar for him to not feel anything but this burning in his eyes. “I will protect him. I will make him king.”

Liam doesn't care. It doesn't matter if Impa is right, or if he truly has said potential. He's decided to protect Zayn, and this is the one thing he knows.

He needs Wolfie's speed and power. Wolfie's raw power won't suffice, though. He needs more. He also needs technique and precision he's tempered into his soul in a decade of training. He needs a middle ground for both sides of himself.

“Grant my wish, please.” He reaches for his bracelet, unbothered by how limp his arm dingles from his hand. “Nor man, no beast... Give me strength for both... Soul Howl... Overdrive.”

#

Zayn regains consciousness thanks to a strong reaction he picks in the air. It's not Mana, but it's strong enough to awake him. Comparable to the immense source of Mana some metres away from him.

It takes time for his eyes to regain focus, but when they do, he notices a Lynel— the strong magical presence he's sensed. And then his eyes wander to the source of the odd power... a Wolfos?

No, that's not it. This is more human-like, though equally furry. It also has a posture alarmingly human, and even dresses in clothes.

The powerful creature vanishes. All traces of its mystical power disappears. When it reappears, its feet connect to the Lynel’s head into a double kick.

The Golden Lynel staggers. Its claws come up empty, missing the nimble wolf-like creature by large. It also clutches the nape of its neck, and that's when Zayn realises it has an injury to the neck.

“Nightshade Arts,” the wolf creature holds a sword to the side. _Liam's_ sword. “Harvest.”

Arches of light converge onto the Lynel. Most of it disappears on the impact of his club, though one gets through, slicing his chest in an upwards diagonal.

 _Is that... Leeyum?_ Zayn attempts to push himself up. His whole body screams at him for it. He can't even heal himself instantly without his sceptre. He has some potions in his bum bag. If only he could move these lifeless arms, then—

Metal clatters at every parried hit, and Zayn notices the Lynel has drawn an oversized sword with a half moon tip to its blade. He blocks Liam's attacks with his rock club, and follows up with his odd sword.

Zayn sticks his tongue out. This isn't a finger but it should work. Hopefully. It's the best he can do in his current state. “ _Dast-e-toofan._ ”

Lightning shrouds Liam's blade, and it electrocutes the Lynel at the crossing of their swords. Understandably, he notices Zayn on the ground, and chucks his club in the same direction.

“I told you I'm not letting you touch him again,” the wolf creature warns, landing three slashes across the Lynel's arm, zapping him again. It then blocks the attack for Zayn. “Don't sleep. I'm finishing this now.”

Yeah, _definitely_ Liam's voice under the fur and fangs.

The Golden Lynel seems of accord, as he swings his sword in a wide circle above his head. The muscles on his arms engorge, and the blade picks up even greater momentum.

“Be careful,” Zayn says, a little surprised that it earns himself a howl, but not much more than he is to notice Liam’s golden eyes and dark irises. Eyes of a real wolf.

Once they're out of this, Liam has _a lot_ to explain.

“Nightshade Arts,” Liam begins, blade downwards by his side.

He vanishes towards the Lynel, who already expects him with a heavy swing mid-air. It's going to connect, and when it does, there'll be two Liams. Or rather, _two halves_ of one Liam.

Zayn shouts. His voice breaks halfway. The loss of oxygen makes the world spin around him faster than he can keep up.

But then, Liam takes foothold in the air, and somersaults away from the blade’s path.

Next, he leaps forwards.

“Safflina Tempest.”

The Golden Lynel is still finishing its swing, when a devastating flurry of slashes meets its flesh. If Zayn's eyes had grown used to Liam's movements, after being one with them, now they regress to catching just blurs. He can't keep up with this insane speed, and only counts movements by the fresh wounds that blossom on the Lynel's torso.

The front legs are the first to give out. Unable to balance the beast’s weight, they bring it down to its knees. The gigantic blade also topples to the ground. The once mighty arm swinging it, now dangles lifeless, knuckles brushing the snow.

Liam stabs his sword through the Lynel's heart, the distinctive words leaving his lips:

“Now you can finally rest, dad.”

Flames burst out the stab wound, rapidly reducing the Lynel's body to ashes. Only its horns and hooves remain, plummeting to the white snow. A glowing star shaped stone drops, too, but this one might as well be one of the Lynel’s possessions.

“Zed!”

Zayn blinks at his name. Human-wolf Liam drops by his side, torn between touching him and not accidentally worsening his condition.

“I'll go get hel—”

A shadow leaves Liam, and with it his fangs and fur. He drops beside Zayn like a sack of grains, completely unresponsive in a puddle of red.

Zayn tries to scream, to ask for help, but he fails. His body remains numb, and his voice, long gone, can’t carry his plea. All he can do is plead with the goddess to save them from white death that resumes falling on them again.

#

_“Dad! The featherless one woke up!”_

A child’s voice and approaching footsteps wake Zayn up. There’s a roof over his head, and the snow is gone. So is Liam, but first he’s forced to focus on gentle movements to keep his entire body from yelling back at him.

“You are awake, indeed.”

Zayn slowly brings his gaze up. The face his eyes meet, covered in feathers as dark as his own hair, has a large beak. A few feathers in lighter shade—more akin to purple—mark what eyebrows would be, had birds any.

“Don’t move too much. I’ll fetch Verla for you,” he tells Zayn, making a wait movement with his feathery hands. Wings. Both, maybe? “Molli, bring him some water, love.”

That’s when Zayn notices a small bird child, to the likeness of a sparrow of white and pink feathers, rushes out of the room. She comes back a moment later, carrying the shell of a Deku Nut in her hands. The birdman, then, helps Zayn sit up to drink it.

“Tell papa our guest is awake, okay?” he instructs her.

Zayn supposes it's common to have kids jumping out of windows around these parts, given that the raven guy doesn’t even blink. The little girl also doesn’t take long, and then she’s back, tugging a second birdman—a falcon—by the wing.

“I feared you would need another two days,” he says, placing a wing to his chest and exhaling rather audibly. “I’m happy that wasn’t the case.”

Zayn nods at the raven, to which the birdman backs off, and joins the other two.

“Thank you for help...”

“Verla.” The falcon points to himself. “And I suppose you’ve already met my family.”

“Hello! I’m Molli!” the little sparrow chirps. “What’s your name? Why don’t you have any feathers? Why—”

“Sweetie, he’s still tired. Not so many questions, hm?” the raven tells her, pinching her beak sealed. “Sorry about this— I’m Harth. Molli’s dad.”

 _Her dad?_ Zayn stares at them, lost in contemplation. Wasn’t the Verla lad her ‘papa’? He’s pretty sure that’s what Harth told her. So, how can Harth be her—

 _Oh_.

“I’ll tell Kaneli he’s awake,” Verla whispers to Harth, and it’s hard to miss his wing glued to the latter’s hip. “I’ll pick some clothes with Huck for him, too.”

There’s something else that they confide before Verla leaves, but Zayn tunes it out, choosing not to intrude. Whispers hardly escape elf ears, unless it’s from other elves. It’s not his intention to be privy in this situation, nor had he intended to the first time round.

“Uh, excuse me— where's _Leeyum_?”

He's noticed the bed he's in is the only one in the room. Surely Liam is somewhere else. Knowing how resilient he is, he must be outside, already working out.

The birdmen fall silent, and with their silence falls the Deku bowl. Verla scoops his daughter up, nods to Zayn, then leaves. Zayn loathes it. This reminds him of childhood, of all the times Ifra would take him somewhere else because his dad had _“adult matters to discuss.”_

“Your companion, right?” Harth asks after a prolonged silence. “I'm afraid he—”

Static. Harth’s words become distorted noise in Zayn's ears. He has no idea what's said, because he can't hear it, and beaks don't allow a reading of syllables.

“—I’ll take you there when Verla is back,” Harth finishes. Whatever else he's said remains a mystery to Zayn.

Luckily, Verla returns before Zayn's stomach turns inside out. The parcel he brings, tucked one arm, contains trousers and a tunic off plumes and cosy fabric. Once Zayn has put them on, he meets Harth outside the house.

The Rito village is a suspended town built around the large trees. It spirals around the bark connected by large platforms and a few steps. Some platforms lead to a house, whilst others are simply ‘streets’ here. Three full turns around the large bark later, they reach the largest and topmost house.

Inside, Zayn finds a robust birdman of sand grey feathers chanting in a language foreign to him. Harth doesn't interrupt him, and judging by the long, plaited beard, he must be the elder.

“Come forth, Hylian Prince.”

Taking the cue and Harth's nod as encouragement, Zayn approached the old bird men.

“I'm Kaneli, proud leader of the Rito,” he tells Zayn, showing his face for the first time. An eagle owl of distinct long feathers that double as long, outwards eyebrows. “I regret that we must meet under such grim circumstances.”

This situation calls for formal introduction and a greeting, but both are out of the window when Zayn notices a floor bed behind Kaneli. He drops by it, covering Liam's hand with his. Along all of Liam's body, bushes of onyx crystal sprout. His eyes also have two dark marks that run from his forehead down to his cheekbones.

“ _Leeyum_! What's wrong?” He squeezes Liam's hand, trying to warm it up. Liam's touch, as he remembers it, has never been this cold. “Wha’ happened to him?”

“Forced activation of a kind of magic foreign to me,” Kaneli replies. “I've been trying to purge it, but as you see, no success.”

The bracelet. The crystals form a flower around Liam’s wrist. No doubt he used it to achieve that beast form against the Golden Lynel. And Zayn does recall a weird, strong power near him, but can it even be considered magic? Liam _can't_ use magic. Because he has none in his body.

“Master, could you come with me for a second?” Harth asks.

Zayn barely acknowledges them leaving. He's more focused on remaining calm, and trying to find a way to save Liam. The usual healing spells don't work. There's no wound in Liam's body to heal, because Kaneli has taken care of it, already. This state falls closer to a disease than an injury, and elves don’t get ill.

The thought of Midna setting a trap for them _does_ cross Zayn's mind, however briefly. That's when he slaps himself till his cheeks burn. Panicking won't help. Suspecting his allies won't do it, either.

“Great Hylia, if you hear my plea,” he starts bringing Liam's knuckles to his own forehead, “show me the way to dispel this darkness.”

_“Have you tried using your blood?”_

Okay, maybe Zayn hadn't _expected_ the goddess to actually reply to him. Give him a signal, a hint, or inspiration of what to do— anything, except _reply_.

He'd expected she would sound more mature, though.

“Hey! Hey! Are you listening at all?!”

 _Way_ more mature. Wait.

“Navi?” He blinks, trying to follow her erratic path across the room. “You're alive!”

She rams full speed at his face, then tinkles up and down. “Not thanks to you leaving me for a year!”

He should note that they hadn't planned on it, nor had it been holidays for them. What wouldn't he give to have that, in fact. Just some time away from everything and everyone they know. Just him and Liam.

“I'll let you rant later.” He lifts his forefinger for her to perch herself onto. “Explain tha’ blood stuff. Please.”

In the end, Navi's words hardly classify as an ‘explanation’ in his books. Her reasoning is based on hypothesis, and some of which even a stretch. But in this situation he doesn't have the luxury of limiting himself to what he _thinks_. Because what he thinks _isn't_ cleansing Liam from this crystal miasma.

And so, he crunches his pinky between his incisors. The coppery taste indicates he's succeeded at breaking the skin.

“Apply it,” Navi instructs.

He squeezes his finger, till a large cerulean drop hits Liam's bracelet. Nothing happens. There's no apparent effect for a good minute— and Zayn's ready to give Navi an _‘I told you so’_ look— when the jewellery starts to _boil_ like a potion on a beaker.

Zayn rushes to take it off. If it melts Liam's hand off, guilt shall crush his soul before Vaati has the chance to claim his life.

“Ah! Shit!” He recoils his hand. The boiling only intensifies, and then the sprouts all over Liam's body boil, too. “Oi, Navi!”

Now, instead of losing a hand, Liam will lose _97%_ of his body. Just great.

Navi comes to fly circles over them. Once cooled, the resulting goo crawls and converges on the bracelet. A flash engulfs them. Zayn struggles to keep the clarity in check. When he opens his eyes again, a metal bar, dark as the clear night sky, lies beside Liam. The bracelet is nowhere to be seen.

Colour returns to Liam's face, chasing away the long marks across his eyes and ashen skin.

“Thank Hylia it came off.” Zayn holds Liam's hand to his cheek. It's regaining its warmth. It should be back to usual soon. “Why keep worrying me like this?”

Right now, that doesn't really matter, though. It's enough that Liam has life back to his features. All cold and stiff like that, he'd looked... No. Zayn won’t think that. He chooses positivity, chooses the fact that Liam's laboured breathing has become light snores.

It's a well-deserved rest.

#

Whilst Liam rests at Kaneli’s, Zayn joins the girls—Molli and Navi—on a tour around the village.

First, they stop at Brazen Beak to thank her uncle Huck for his current clothes. He insists on paying, but Huck is adamant on not charging royalty. There's a joke that Zayn should bring his companion to shop later, if he really wants to express gratitude. Somehow, Zayn doesn't believe the tailor just pulls his leg with that.

Next, they visit the local chapel. It seems only appropriate to give his thanks for Liam's safety. Not only this, but he's neglected daily prayers in this whirlwind of events. It's also a chance to appreciate the Rito architecture and how they praise the goddess. Around here, they happen to have a statue in Her likeness.

Even if it's not their intention (it isn’t _Zayn's_ at least), they interrupt the choir rehearsals. A five voice band of quintuplets— Kotts, Cree, Genli, Kheel and Notts. The little bird girls eagerly accommodate him, so Zayn can’t say they care for the interruption. Their singing does ease the worries of mind, albeit briefly, and he thanks them for the privilege of a performance.

There's nothing left to do, besides returning to Kaneli’s shackle. Liam might as well be awake, though he doesn't seem to answer on their link.

“A most illustrious visitor among us today.”

Zayn readily turns around. Such a mouthful of words for such a young voice. He expects maybe one little chick he hasn't met yet. Instead, he finds no Rito— a Hylian girl in a golden owl mask.

“Hi, Purah!” Molli greets her.

It's an acquaintance, then. They're in a similar age span, and given Molli’s friendly personality, Zayn can't say it surprises him.

“Dearest Molli, I have business of the utmost urgency to treat with Your Majesty,” she tells Zayn's small tour guide, completely disregarding his cocked eyebrow. “What about conferring with your friends about your next shenanigans, whilst I discuss grave matters with him?”

Molli stares at Zayn, her head suddenly tilting sideways.

“Uh, she means you should play with your friends ‘cos we’ll talk about boring, adult stuff,” he offers.

After a moment of hesitation—or confusion—Molli takes off to meet her friends. It's now just Zayn, the girl, and her verbiage.

“We are better situated back at my lab,” she says, and then skids away in her wheeled boots.

Not much of a choice, is there? He follows the masked little girl all the way back to the highest platform. Only instead of visiting Kaneli, they pass the elder’s house by and head into a cottage on the other side. One with an iron door and a smoking chimney.

“Make yourself at home, Your Majesty.” She places her hand to a crimson panel, and a scarlet light swaps over it. Green replaces red, the door splitting halfway in a diagonal. “This is my humble work station and sweet home.”

Still cautious, but much more curious, Zayn follows her inside. It's not that different from his study room, if he's honest. Books, notes, a board, tools, flasks... The large furnace concerns him a little, though. Why do the Rito allow a Hylian among them, and to live with such dangerous stuff? Surely Kaneli hasn't grown senile that he no longer discern potential hazard _literally_ living next door.

“Let me start by prefacing that my assistance doesn't constitute altruism.” She presses a finger to her mask, and it splits in half, each half forming a ribbon shape above her head. “I need your assistance as well, so let's approach this as a bilateral agreement.”

Scarlet eyes. Her irises burn with the same fire as Liam's. Even behind the thick rimmed glasses that take up her petite face, they're clear like the day.

“Let me introduce myself properly: I am Purah,” she carries on. “Sheikah scientist, historian, and tech enthusiast.”

#

“I see you are finally awake.”

Liam sits up, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. This isn't the mountains. He knows because he'd have died frozen, or from whatever robbed him of his consciousness before he could find help for Zayn.

 _Where_ is Zayn, actually?

“You seem confused. I don't blame you.”

The face of an ancient owl comes into his view. Liam blinks at the long bearded Rito, eyeing the bowl of water offered to him.

“Felling a beast of that port is no feat one can scoff at,” the old bird man continues. “Still, it's a miracle you and Your Majesty have lived to tell. Especially you, young Sheikah.”

Liam reflexively reaches to shelter his eyes, but this only prompts the old birdman to chuckle well-humoured. Revali’s hostility is still too fresh in mind, and everyone back at his village has warned him about remaining cautious around the Rito. Even more than Hylians or any other races.

“Take one of these,” the elder tells him. He opens his palm to what seems like a bean grain. “This shall calm the raging fire in your eyes.”

Liam hesitates. But again, who wouldn't? He figures there's no reason to, eventually. He'd been asleep for Goddess knows how long. Out cold. Dead to the world and anything on it. If this old owl had wanted to harm him, he would likely be dead meat already. Plus, he doesn’t smell any poison in this candy.

There's a little tingle in his eyes, followed by some cooling. Looking in a mirror the old man holds, he confirms that his eyes are now a gorgeous whiskey colour, like Zayn's.

“Thank you for saving me...”

“Kaneli. Current head of the Rito,” the old birdman says. He strides to the window, both wings crossed behind his back. “If you wanna thank anyone, thank Your Majesty. You'll find him next door.”

Liam leaps from under the covers, ready to sprint through the door. He's made to refrain, as he has to cover himself in borrowed clothes folded by the bed. Once done, he bolts to the next shackle.

_“Oh! You're already here!”_

A disembodied voice greets him at the metallic door. He looks for its source, but all he can find is a camera much smaller than the one he owns.

_“I'll grant you access. Just wait patiently.”_

Liam alternately bawls a fist whilst he waits. Zayn is definitely here. He can smell the faint Silent Princess scent behind this door. He doesn't know how, but they've survived. They fought the Lynel, defeated it, and survived. Both of them.

To say he's stoked is an _understatement_.

The door splits open. The moment his eyes land on Zayn, Liam shadesteps to him, arms wide open. It's Zayn's smell, Zayn's warmth, Zayn's presence. He takes it all in, craving it altogether.

“You're not hurt?” he asks, holding Zayn by the shoulders, whilst Zayn's hands cradle his face. He doesn't notice tears till soft thumbs wipe at his eyes, ever so tender. “You're really not hurt?”

Zayn grins, and his eyes shimmer like glass under sunlight. “I don't think you can say anything— wha’ happened to your eyes?”

A loud clear of a throat breaks them apart, and Liam acknowledges for the first time the child in oversized glasses in the room.

“I loathe interrupting displays of affection, but I am yet to explain my request,” she says sternly, probably mimicking her parents.

Let's hear her first, _Leeyum_.

Liam nods. He allows Zayn to guide him to a sofa that's half buried in piles of books. The little girl, now receiving both their attentions, seems much more pleased.

#

Long centuries ago, in a mostly forgotten time, Hyrule saw its first universal alliance. Under the leadership of the then current princess, the best warrior of each tribe got chosen as their people representative. Gerudo, Rito, Zora, Goron and Sheikah— five in total. Five different races, cultures and customs united under the Hylian princess. An elite force focused on helping villages and maintaining peace across the continent. These brave warriors were known as The Champions.

The princess herself, she yielded powerful magic awarded to the people of Hyrule, wrought by the Creation Goddesses themselves. This mysterious artefact, comprised of the virtues of the being—wisdom, courage and power—was said to shatter lands and reform skies. A power absolute between heaven and earth.

Peace lasted for years, thanks to this intrepid group. Their feats garnered them thousands of admirers, as well as foes. Those who benefited from wars, conflict, and unjust politics, naturally, grew to despise them.

Among one group in particular, the resentment against the Royal family ran deep. Warriors by nature, the Sheikah despised the amount of power handed to the Royal family just for privileged birth. Meanwhile, they had to train from a tender age to achieve, at best, half the potential one would have for being born in a golden pram.

This sentiment was specific to a very small faction, and so it went ignored for many years... till a sinister plan was put to motion.

Years of studies in magic allowed the Sheikah to develop their own magic: shadow magic. An antithesis to the very own yielded by the princess. A kind of magic different not only in conception, but also in form: visible matter.

Dreaming of collecting enough shadow magic to rival the princess’ white magic and steal the Triforce, they came up with a design. A crown-like armour to be worn by the one suitable to be their leader, which they aptly dubbed Fused Shadow— a nefarious object made of magic and nothing else.

This group of Sheikah seeking treason got known as The Interlopers.

Soon, their plan was set to motion. First, they came for the Rito. The bird race and its unwavering loyalty posed the biggest obstacle to their plan. With all others they had hope of convincing, talking them into it. The Rito would choose death over treason, and therefore it didn’t matter if they died sooner rather than later. Their destiny was sealed from the start, shackled by their stubbornness and loyalty.

And so, the Rito champion met his doom at once allied hands, victim of a treacherous ambush. His demise, however, triggered a chain of other events that brought the interlopers’ plan to life. Word reached the Goron champion, and from there out was only a moment till their treason scheme got exposed, and most of their forces arrested.

In the final showdown, both sides sustained severe losses. The princess sought to punish any wrongdoings, whilst her people thirsted for retribution— for every bit of Hylian blood shed, an equal amount of Sheikah’s would be required.

Appeasing both parties wasn't an option. The princess, then, prayed for divine intervention, and had her wishes answered in the form of a mirror. A peculiar, sturdy mirror leading to a world where the light didn't reach. Beside her sages, she declared and delivered the penalty.

The interlopers, banished from Hyrule, were sentenced to a life in the shadows, till the end of times.

#

Zayn has yet to process every detail of Purah’s story. He's had a few theories up to now, and some things do fit too well, but her tale ties everything together. He should be able to dig up some more back at the castle, using the spell she’s passed to him.

Yes, it makes sense now. Midna’s words about losing their king once due to their greed. The Twili’s red eyes. Zant's grudge against the Royal family. The Rito’s aversion to Sheikah. The fact that Liam got badly affected by Twilight. The spirit of a warrior asking them to stop Zant and protect Hyrule— it all comes together.

“I've read every book in the castle about our history,” he says, sparing Liam a glance for confirmation. “Nowhere it mentions tha’ much detail.”

Purah sits on a strange chair that's only a cushioned seat floating in the air.

“Yet, you already display some advanced knowledge on the forgotten war.” She puts her mask back on, and starts rummaging through a pile of dusty scrolls. “King Yaser is still young, and you are even younger. It's several years till you assume the throne and be privy to all this, Your Majesty.”

Zayn nibbles on his bottom lip. “Uhh... It's...”

“Save yourself the effort of an unconvincing excuse, please,” she continues, and a part of Zayn wonders whether to take it as an insult or help. “That gadget your friend carries provides me more than enough clues,” she adds pointing to Liam's waist.

Purah lays one of her scrolls across a floating table. An old map, much like the one Zayn carries on him. The main difference is the scale, as here it depicts only Termina’s mountain region.

“That's why I come with a proposition for you two.” She slams both palms against the table, the sound startling Navi, nested in Zayn's hair, awake. “I humbly request your assistance in recovering my brethren’s lost technology.”

#

Purah’s offer is tempting, and Liam’s eye twinkle is blatant, but Zayn doesn’t give her an answer. Instead, he asks her for some time to discuss it among themselves. And by _‘discussing’_ he means _‘try to put some sense into Liam’s head,’_ really.

“I think we should accept it.”

“Oh, really?” Zayn rolls his eyes. “Like it wasn’t all over your face.”

“I’m more surprised that _you_ don't wanna go,” Liam counters. He narrows his eyes, scrutinising Zayn’s face for Goddess-know-what. Although his new whiskey eyes suit him, their natural red remains his best colour. “You usually don’t pass up a chance to dig up history.”

This is where familiarity breeds contempt. Because, indeed, Purah’s offer does appeal to Zayn’s curious nature. It’s not everyday he’s offered a chance of braving ruins from a ruined civilisation. That shrine awaits them with lost technology, and a large portion of history kept from the books. It holds answers to many of his questions, and some others he doesn’t even know are in him.

Yet, he doesn’t believe he should go. Or that _they_ should go, more precisely.

All the cons rest ready on the top of his tongue. The many times they've narrowly missed their demise. The frequency with which they wake up in unfamiliar settings. Every minute his heart clenched at the thought of losing Liam. They may have reasons to go, but in Zayn's mind there's just as many to _not_ to.

“I'm not going to die, Zed.”

Ah, yes. The fact that this has usually preceded deadly situations is just what Zayn needs to hear. Perfect. Just perfect.

Liam takes a knee, despite Zayn's attempts at stopping him. Head low, fist to chest— a perfect reenact of his knighting ceremony.

“I also want to test my strength. I've failed too many times to fulfil my duty as your knight,” he says, and even from this angle Zayn's doesn't miss how his jaw tightens at the words. “The challenge ahead is even bigger than this. How can you ask me to fail you again? To _keep_ failing you, Zed?”

“Raise your head, _Leeyum_ ,” Zayn orders.

“I ask for your permission—”

There goes Zayn's patience. Since Liam won't shut up for a minute, he's forced to shut him himself. He drops to his knees and sandwiches Liam's face in his hands, forcing their gazes to meet.

“When are you going to understand tha’ I hate seeing you hurt just as much, you big, fit doughnut?!” he nearly shouts. “I worry twice as much because you don't worry about yourself!”

It escapes him at first, but Zayn notices he's breathing in puffs. Maybe he shouldn't get so many words out at once in this altitude.

“I'm...” Liam purses his lips into a thin line. “I didn't want you to worry. Sorry, babe.”

 _Don't make that face._ Only that Liam ignores his silent plea and gives him the hurt puppy look. It happens wherever he's scolded, and has been since their toddler days. _Not the puppy eyes, no._

“If you get tha’... it's all good, I suppose.” He smiles at the way Liam tentatively perks up. “I'm not stopping you from going, but I'll go with you. Okay?”

Liam's grin grows wide, and it takes all of Zayn's being to not melt under its radiance. Perhaps it's knowing he's the reason behind it that flips Zayn's stomach.

There's maybe a second between Zayn's approval nod and finding himself scooped up off the floor, and even less till they're back at Purah’s door.

“Can't have you changing your mind,” Liam explains, carrying him into the house.

Inside, an eager Purah awaits with Blue Nightshade tea and sautéed nuts. From the looks of it, she hasn't believed in the possibility of them refusing her offer. Cunning little girl. Woman. _Woman_.

#

Luck smiles upon them, as they run into the musician versed in the song to reveal the path to the shrine entrance. Kass, the pilgrim bard, rivals the bird children at the village. It’s really not that surprising that he turns out to be the quintuples father.

New melody in their hearts, they head further into the frozen forest, past the Anouki village. Liam's wolf form enables faster travel, but both Purah and Kaneli agree with Zayn that he shouldn't push himself too much.

“I suppose that's it?” Liam holds his left hand out. “Ready?”

Zayn grasps his hand tightly. “I doubt tha’, but... That's why we're here.”

The Sheikah slate goes on the rock panel, like on Purah's instructions. It turns and spins, till finally the panel glows a fiery orange that fades into blue. The cold air and snow are suddenly gone. All around, they see walls covered in constellation patterns, illuminated by a soft azure that emanates from them and sparse lamps.

Zayn steps out of the vertical tunnel of light first. There's now a stone circle under their feet with the Sheikah eye on it. They've moved locations, yet he hasn't felt the faintest Mana in it. The usage differs nothing from his Farore magic, but it also lacks Mana to be considered magic.

“Felt a bit different from what you do,” Liam confirms, joining him in his awe of the room. “Yours always gives me a small tingle.”

Zayn cocks an eyebrow. “My magic... tingles.”

What should he do with new information? He's always used it, but never really gave much thought to how others would perceive it. At least he's sure this is the first time Liam has said something like this.

“Maybe ‘cos I can't use it or something?” Liam adds, shrugging it off. “I thought it just did that all the time. I don't know.”

“...Right.”

They go deeper into the temple to find another rock panel. Again, Liam slots his slate into it and again fiery orange fills the circular pattern engraved on it.

_“Sheikah Slate authenticated. Distilling rune…”_

On the crystal above the panel, codes written in neon blue run across it. Every single word converges on one point, and then a single glowing drop falls down onto Liam's slate, lighting it and the panel in blue.

_“Rune extracted. Initialising A Major Test of Strength.”_

The panel ejects the Sheikah Slate, placing it vertically. They exchange a wary look.

“...I don't like the sound of tha’.”

Liam hooks his slate back to his belt. “I _love_ the sound of that.”

Perks of your best mate being an exercise nerd, Zayn guesses. Fortunately, their first challenge is more about wits than it is about guts.

The rune extracted provides a new function that allows Liam to manipulate some kind of metals with zero effort. It takes a few tries to get the hang of it, though. A simple press of a button lets the Sheikah Slate pull and move freely the two large floorboards before the gate.

“I could have opened that,” Liam protests, as they climb down a ladder into an underground passageway.

And he's likely right, but Zayn prefers they leave the ruins intact. _‘Ruins’_ loosely used here, because he can't imagine such a futuristic and pristine place can be a bunch of millennia old.

As soon as they emerge on the other side of the gate, the second obstacle stands in their way.

 _Literally_.

Zayn knocks on the wall of blocks. Most of them are stone, but some are made of iron, with screws and grid patterns like the floorboards in the first room. They don't seem bound together, but given their weight, that hadn't been a concern for their engineers.

Again, the Magnesis rune does short work of it. Liam piles the metal cubes to form giant stairs they can climb on just their legs.

“Where's the ‘strength test’ if I can use this thing to lift everything heavy?” he ponders, and most likely he _doesn't_ want to hear from Zayn how adorable his pout actually is. “This isn't right. It's just not.”

“You know we're not here to fight, right?” Zayn laughs because no one else would actively seek hardships. Furthermore, he's positive they have had enough for the past... however much time they spent in the Twilight Realm. “Tell me you do. _Leeyum_?”

Zayn's ears pick on the reason for Liam's sudden silence before his eyes catch the purple dot on his forehead.

_Commence battle sequence... Engage intruders immediately._

They both evade an energy beam, then regroup already armed.

Zayn bumps his shoulder into Liam's, partially regretting it when Liam's armour digs into his flesh.

“There's your test!” He motions in the direction of the eight-legged robot with a single eye. “Happy now?”

“Actually...”

Zayn twirls his sceptre, the air sizzling with its movement. A large spark gathers above the guardian robot. At the swing of his weapon, a lightning bolt strikes the robot down.

“Dandelion Bolt!”

A clean hit. Electricity courses over the dark armour, all the way over the robot's multiple legs. It seems effective at first, as the purple light aimed at their heads disappears. Then, the machine crawls over the right wall and charges at them from the ceiling.

Liam instinctively goes for its head, but even beheading it isn't easy. The armour around the head is thicker than the one on its several legs, attested by the one he severs.

“I want to try something,” he says, blocking a beam with his shield. The impact sends him reeling a foot or two. “It's nothing dangerous, before you even ask!”

Which is Liam for _‘not as dangerous in my mind as it's in yours,’_ Zayn has long learnt. Still, he readies and shoots five ice pyramids at the robot. The first four get crushed by each of the extra arms, and the fifth one rams it all the way to the back wall.

Liam's eyes become golden when he opens them again. His breathing slows down nearly to a halt, and he doesn't react to his name, no matter how many times Zayn calls for him.

It's a flash. In one fluid move Liam pops his bow out and drives three arrows through the underside of the robot.

“It's not armoured on its bottom.” He blinks his eyes back to the borrowed brown he's sported for the past few hours. “Also the eye, but it's a wee tiny target.”

Zayn wiggles a forefinger at Liam. His questions will wait till later. It's enough for him that no one has turned into a Wolvos-like beast. Odd eye colour or not.

“You're gonna explain everything,” he warns, then hurls three ice lances at the fallen guardian.

A few more arrows and the robot begins to spasm, till it finally blows up. Several screws, cogs, springs, and other parts are easily fist-sized, scatter around. They're nearly weightless, yet as sturdy as the metal on those cubes and floorboards. Something Liam notes, saying an armour from it _“would be brill.”_

Some more walking takes them to their destination: double metal doors exactly like the floor boards from the first room. And, on a second thought, those might not have been floorboards, after all.

Liam uses Magnesis to open one half, and they step into a new room, much more illuminated. It consists of stairs to a cage of blue light with a person inside. The Sheikah emblem on the front is too clear to ignore.

“It's sealed in magic.” Zayn lowers the hand he holds out to the light siege. “A strong one, too.”

"Maybe it'll open?” Liam waves the Sheikah Slate beside. “It's worked so far.”

There's a fundamental error in this train of thought. Not that Liam gives Zayn time to point out, as he vanishes closer to the cell. The bars of light shatter upon his touch, revealing a waning man of snow-white hair and brass skin.

The old man's forehead houses a Sheikah mark, and from his appearance it’s hard to tell if he's still among the living. Which may not be the case, if he's been meditating here for some thousands of years.

_“You have proven to possess the resolve of a true hero.”_

Liam throws a wide-eyed look behind himself. Yeah, Zayn's positive they both hear the old man's voice in their head.

_“I am Oman Au, a humble monk and the creator of this trial. In the name of Goddess Hylia, let me bestow this gift upon you...”_

Where the man's hands form a triangle together, a dark orb with the Royal Family crest pops out. It floats in front of Liam, then, splitting into three beams of light, enters his chest.

_“Your presence here frees me of my duty.”_

Oman Au starts to fade into a fine neon green dust, carried by the soft breeze of the ventilators.

_“Press on to the next trial... May the Goddess smile upon you.”_

Zayn teleports to Liam's side, both hands pressed flat against Liam's chest. Traces of Mana. There's magic in Liam, even though it's not really Liam's. It's _in_ him, but it doesn't _belong_ to him.

“Let me know when you're done.”

Zayn jerks away when he catches Liam's suggestive eyebrow wiggle. _Oh Goddess._

“That's not— I wasn't—”

“Babe! I'm pulling your leg!” Liam takes Zayn's hands in his, placing them back on his chest. “You can't get a feel over the chain mail, any way,” he deadpans, bursting into giggles when Zayn slaps his arm.

“Wanker,” he snarls, fighting the smile that insists on taking over his lips. “Are you alright, though? Like... there’s some magic in you now.”

No apparent change, at least. Liam holds out a hand and tries to shoot a fireball, but nothing comes out. Granted, he doesn't have the right form. And yelling _“Fireeee!”_ won't produce any flames. Din magic doesn't work like that. Nor do any Goddess magic, for that matter.

 _“_ I'm guessing that's where we go next,” Liam says. In the direction he points to, a stone circle with the Sheikah eye lights up in azure. “I'm fine. Don't worry.”

“I worry even _more_ when you say tha’, if I’m honest.”

The same as the first shrine, they reach a large room with a single stone panel, and covered in constellations. The second rune makes bombs out of light. Similar to the cage they've found Oman Au in. It's light, but it's also solid, and detonates at Liam's command. The explosion itself is rather weak, but it blows up cracked stone and allows progress without extra damage.

As with the first one, they meet the corpse of a monk caged behind light bars. It could very well be Oman Au again.

Ja Baij praises Liam for his effort, and before fading into nothingness, bestows what he calls a “Courage Orb” upon Liam.

This crescent number of orbs inside Liam, as well as the magic they carry, worry Zayn.

It's only on the third shrine level that things get shuffled. The order of events switches up with combat before they earn a rune.

A guardian robot twice Liam's size rises. In addition to its height, it wields a weapon on each arm: a spear, an axe, and a sword that glows like the stars on the walls.

Liam beams, at the pace that Zayn sighs.

“That spear will be a hassle...” he ponders out loud. His eyes light up— undoubtedly with a new idea. “I'll leave it to you. I'll get the other two.”

The floor flees from under Zayn when Liam holds his left forearm downwards. Not this instance again. Not all the same consequences again.

“ _Leeyum_ , _don't_. Anything but tha’,” he begs, because he's not above it. If this is what it takes to keep Liam safe, he'll beg twice as much. “You're still recovering.”

But Liam simply smiles. Under the glove he discards, he has a black and navy blue bracelet on. The two colours blend into each other in a seamless cycle.

“Trust me,” he tells Zayn. He brings his forearm to his chest. “Soul... Overdrive.”

A bestial shadow devours Liam. It leaves behind no wolf, nor a wolf-man. Instead, a long-haired Liam of eyes golden like the setting sun stands still.

“Let's go, Zed,” he says, revealing elongated canines.

The Guardian responds to their movement with energy beams. Zayn bounces them back with an array of ice prisms, though only the first shot hits back. All the following get blocked by an energy shield.

“Nightshade Arts: Harvest.”

One by one, the guardian’s legs tomb, severed from the main body. Unable to keep up, it enters a frenzied state, shooting randomly around.

Zayn uses the crushed ice around it to create water tentacles under it and flip it into the air.

“ _Leeyum!_ ”

“Nightshade Arts...” Liam vanishes up close to the disoriented robot, right under it. “Overwinter.”

A large fireball engulfs the room. Zayn has lost sight of Liam. His eyes have done a poor job of it since the beginning, so he can't say he's entirely surprised. Once flames and debris stop raining down, he undoes his shield to look for Liam.

Or the other way round, since Liam appears right behind him. Golden eyes and all.

“I told you it was going to work,” he says, blinking once. His natural scarlet is back to his eyes, and his curls short again. “Mr. Big Owl told me what you did. Thank you.”

Zayn smirks. “I'm pretty sure it's ‘Kaneli’ and not ‘Mr. Big Owl’, _Leeyum_.”

“What you said, yeah.”

For now, Zayn breathes out and laces his arms around Liam's neck. He's not convinced yet, but to have Liam listening to his pleas washes over him like a warm sea. Maybe it's the idea of Liam out of harm's way? If this is relief, he wants it to last forever.

“I'll be disappointed if this was ‘the major test’, though,” Liam says, popping every robot part he sees into his pouch. “Expected a more challenging challenge.”

Zayn sighs. Well, best five minutes in his whole life, he supposes.

The next room offers them the rune the first two failed to provide. The third rune, Stasis, has the power to stop time flow for objects. That's what the flavour text on the Sheikah Slate reads, any way.

It's not until they have to use it to progress in the next room that they confirm it. A clock-like system drops a boulder into the shaft that leads upwards. This stone sphere eventually drops into the pit, and gets reloaded into rolling down the slope again.

Magnesis is useless, as it doesn't work on stone. Ekrixi doesn't even scratch the spheres.

“I could just roll it up again,” Liam suggests.

And yeah, Zayn had thought the same, but once the second one drops, they would have to push _two_ stone spheres. The second one would also deadlock them before they reach the exit, unable to roll the first sphere past it.

Liam takes a picture. The sphere indeed freezes in the air. They dash all the way up, and like Zayn's deduced, find an exit on the side of the shaft. The Sheikah Slate beeps a few times, and then the sphere rolls down the slope, followed by two more.

With some luck, Purah might be able to explain how it works. Time magic isn't something many can use, nor simple enough to be replicated by some machine. They've reached the imprisoned monk. That's all that matters.

_“Your resourcefulness in overcoming this trial speaks to the promise of a hero.”_

Owa Daim—or what's left of him—tells Liam. Like his fellow monks, he bestows a dark orb from his withering hands straight into Liam's chest.

_“May the Goddess smile upon you.”_

With no mention of a following trial, Zayn assumes this is the final one. They've collected robot parts and runes as Purah has requested. The corpse monks with the mysterious magic might be just a bonus, he supposes.

“Let's go back,” he suggests, content that Liam agrees. They've stayed underground for far too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who might be curious, [this is what Z's hairdo is supposed to be like](https://64.media.tumblr.com/1dbae1c5f34868dbecdb844376389e9b/7547116d5d0d5e23-8c/s640x960/c1e652c949c86f9e5502133f794006933afa67d8.jpg). And [this is his winter outfit](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4503e6c03e1c3ee5ec35268d49b4a092/7547116d5d0d5e23-25/s540x810/709c6a0f926d55641ad7b3d2d18ee23cd59f8bcb.jpg) as seen on the original Zelda.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	7. Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click As soon as on the chapter, if you want to skip steamy scenes.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.

**VII**

It’s another night at Rito Village before they depart to Goron Territory, Death Mountain. As promised, Purah rewards their investigative efforts with her newest creation: the Ancient Armour. A sturdy, robotic-like suit that closely resembles the very guardian they’ve fought. A little bit too creepy with eye-like lights, but nothing that can’t be overlooked for Liam’s safety.

Zayn reveals to Kaneli the fate of those attending Hyrule’s festival, including Revali. It feels only correct to pay back the old owl’s kindness in the only way possible. It’s not much, he knows. Yet, it’s the best he can do for now. Till he reclaims peace to his kingdom and all of Termina.

“We’re here.” Liam taps the map displayed on his Sheikah Slate. Under his forefinger, a yellow arrow marks their current location. “The Fire Temple should be somewhere near the top. What you think?”

“Do you hate me?”

Liam frowns, as if spoken to in ancient Hylian.

“I asked if you hate me,” Zayn insists.

This question has plagued him since hearing Purah’s story. He’s puzzled the pieces together, and they all fit together. Now, he just can’t not look at things from another perspective, like Zant’s. The Interlopers conspired against Hyrule. That’s a fact. He also doesn’t—nor ever will—condone Zant’s actions, but should the Twili be fated to live in the shadows forever? For a crime that isn’t even theirs?

The hidden history of Hyrule sheds light on many aspects. The Rito’s despise for the Sheikah. Why Hylians resent Sheikah, and why Sheikah resent Hylians back. Too much hurt, too much useless conflict. And for Liam to have lived all this, only to be forced to fight for the ones that look down on him— Zayn wouldn’t blame him for bottling up a grudge.

“Navi, can you give us some time?” Liam asks, to which the little fairy tinkles twice before flying away. He then leads Zayn to a smooth boulder, where they sit down. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Lars has a point.” Zayn sighs. “You’re fighting to save people who hate you— It doesn’t sound right.”

No reply. For a moment, Liam says nothing. He retracts his hands from Zayn’s, and just remains there, silent and stiff. Perhaps, no answer _is_ an answer in itself.

To Zayn’s surprise, a bare, calloused hand cradles his cheek, tilting his face up. He finds scarlet eyes staring at him, framed by furrowed brows, and glistening.

“I don’t fight to save people who hate me,” Liam says softly. “I fight to protect what’s important to me. That also means what’s important to _you_.”

Yeah, he supposes saving the likes of Prime Minister Kinza would be optional. Frankly, Zayn can't say he's fond of the guy, either. It doesn't matter how good at his job he is; a knobhead is still a _knobhead_.

“I do this as a Hylian knight, but also as your best mate and the kid your dad helped raise,” Liam continues, and the bittersweet smile on his lips causes a tear to roll down. “Don't ever think I'm ‘stuck with you’. Because I'll choose to be by your side every day. Till my last day, if I can.”

Warm. The warmth in Liam's words seeps through his palms and spreads across Zayn’s chest. He believes these words; he does. This has never been about him putting Liam's loyalties to test, either. It's just— how is this fair? On Liam, on Midna, or the innocents that Vaati choose to trample in the name of his ambitions.

There's so much they've just found out, and who knows what else still awaits buried in the darkest of Termina’s history. There are wrongs to be righted. Reparations that are long overdue. What he's grown up knowing as the truth has a far sinister face, hidden till recently.

And he's inheriting all of this one day. Though that's not exactly what his brain chooses to focus on.

“You want to stay with me forever?”

Liam's bushy eyebrows shoot up. Maybe the implications of his words have dawned on him, as his flushed ears hint.

“Every king needs a general, don't they?” He laughs it off, retracting his hand. “You don't want Mubariz to work another century.”

 _Oh_.

For a moment, Zayn had hoped— No. Forget that. This isn't the time to entertain these thoughts. Although... This also might be his only chance to do so. It's questionable, makes his stomach churns a bit, yet he can't help dreading the end of their journey.

The end of their days like this.

“Yeah, I suppose not,” he replies instead.

Navi joins them at Liam's wolf whistle. Time to resume their climbing.

The mountain's name is both accurate misleading. The heat in it is, indeed, deadly. The source of the heat, however, is a lake of swirling magma, hotter than any Din magic Zayn knows.

Breathing is possible with face masks enhanced with Cotera’ magic and Safflina sap. Without both—and here he suspects that it's a case of ‘either’—their lungs would have been long fried and crispy.

No sign of the usual Moblins. In these lands where only Smotherwing Butterflies and Fireproof Lizards are found, the only monsters around roam ablaze. The orange blobs of ChuChus explode upon attack, whilst Fire Keese leave embers in their wake.

Fire ChuChu Jelly and some gemstones all get properly catalogued thanks to Purah’s latest upgrade. Now Liam has one more reason to indulge his monster part collecting hobby. Because seemingly no one finds it odd, in turn making Zayn the weird one.

Though, he must admit, Liam's glee when adding a new entry to his encyclopedia is too endearing for the repulsing nature of this hobby. It's impossible to not smile whenever a botched picture prompts a giggle shrug.

Half a morning of climbing, fireproof elixirs and photography, the entrance to Goron village comes into view. A village nested into the volcano. Oddly unguarded for how territorial the Goron are.

“I'd say it's this smell,” Liam starts, his ears twitching, “but I can definitely hear snores.”

Well, Zayn can't say he can pick it up over the sounds of magma bubbling up. He does sense several small sources of Mana around the mountain.

Inside, a scene reminiscent of Zora's Domain greets them. The temperature contradicts the fact they’re in a volcano, being comparable to the ones around Rito Village. No Goron in the entrance cave, nor from the smaller ones along the walls. It's a deserted—almost _frozen_ —village.

Zayn urges his stomach to stop flipping. The past few days have helped lessen this feeling that he wishes he could forget altogether.

“This rock is... sleeping.” Liam returns with a watermelon-sized boulder from one of the smaller caves. “Are they hibernating?”

Indeed, a flimsy layer of Mana keeps the small Goron warm. As a race of hot climate, searching alternatives to confront the cold is a basic instinct. It’s a very basic spell, but no doubt that’s a Din Spell that Zayn senses on this little kid.

“Every cave is the same!” Navi confirms, snuggling back into Zayn’s hair. “We should go to the temple, though. We can’t help them staying here!”

A slope in the back of the village leads deeper into the mountain. They're properly underground now. The cave connected to the temple's entrance is even larger than the village above— an ample forest of rock pillars and a lagoon of lava.

“Hurry! This is the last one!” Navi urges them from across the molten sea.

Zayn fights the urge to remind her that they can't fly like her. And he would have lost the battle, if not for Liam's hand on his wrist as soon as his hand goes for her.

“Don't, babe,” he warns.

_She's trying me, Leeyum!_

“Still, _don't_.” Liam laughs. “She means well.”

Zayn teleports them across the lava, and they stand in front of another cave. This time, blocked off by a slab of stone with a handle on it. Now, there's nothing odd about some kind of handle on a door, but this one in particular is _five_ _Liams_ long.

“Those dead monks gave me bombs.” Liam exhales, then pulls at it with all his strength, till his arms give out. “Just a thought.”

“We're already _trespassing_ , _Leeyum—_ we're _not_ exploding anything,” Zayn replies, because he's painfully aware of the fact. They can't formally request permission, but the point remains this visit isn’t Chief-approved. “They probably need two or three Gorons to open tha’, so...”

“...I'll need extra strength.”

The Ancient Armour may disguise it, but there's no doubt in Zayn's mind when the words _‘Soul Overdrive’_ spill from Liam's lips. He doesn't miss how the leg used as support sinks into rocky ground, crushing it.

Navi pokes Zayn's head. “Hey! Stand back!”

Starts slow and imperceptible, then the slab slides out of the entrance. A good metre deep into the door. Despite Liam's efforts, it effectively moves a mere inch, barely enough space to let them see inside the temple.

“I can see the other side.” Zayn waves an arm in Liam's direction. “I can get us in now.”

Liam lets go of the handle, dropping on his arse and hands. His breath comes out in puffs. It's really no surprise when he's tried—alone—something that requires three Gorons. The only thing stronger than a Goron is a Lynels. Though, what really catches Zayn's attention is Liam’s control over a newly-acquired power.

“Well,” Liam grimaces, “I reckon I can't do that again, any way.”

Little changes from the Fire Temple to any other cave here in Death Mountain. The architecture is rudimentary, long holes excavated in stone. Most enemies around here are either dead or completely adapted to this environment.

Piles of bones that litter the area, spring to life as Stalfos, or burn with curses, like the Red Bubbles. Lizalfos and their cold blood have made themselves at home, barely reacting to the heat. Torch Slugs are already on fire, so it makes no difference for them, really.

Every new door has a contraption that activates, but these are nothing compared to the temple’s entrance. Activation still tires Liam, though he still manages without half killing himself. 

“We're here! The deepest portion of the Fire Temple!”

The simple act of rolling his eyes exhausts Zayn. It's a good thing Navi can keep her upbeat self even in these conditions, because he surely can't. The Chilly Elixirs fight dehydration and burns, but can't keep them from sweating altogether, or feeling some heat. Add to it continuous use of magic, and he's tiring much faster than at the other temples.

“I feel like a croissant,” Liam admits. He's the one in a dark armour, so it makes sense that he'd feel like one of Wazir’s pastries. “At least this is the last one.”

The final gem, Goron’s Ruby. With it, they will have collected all the Goddesses of Creation’s stones. It probably will raise Zayn's proficiency in fire magic, like the others have for water and wind. They can finally complete the mission received months ago.

And what then?

According to Liam, they _“should think about that after we're done here.”_ Too carefree for Zayn's liking, though he agrees that worrying now won't help much.

Zayn tightens his grip on his sceptre. “Let's go.”

The stone lever turns, hoisting the door up. They step into a large cave that's rendered smaller by a wide pool of lava. The gem’s pedestal remains at its centre, stranded in the fiery lake, save for a narrow rock path that connects back to the entrance.

“I can see it! Let's just grab—”

Zayn pinches Navi's wings together. “Haven't we learnt _anything_ from the last time?” he chides.

He understands that he and Liam have spent over a year in the Twilight Realm, but she should remember what happened in the Water Temple. Except that, this time, she will end up parched instead of frozen.

“Read this huge Mana flow— there's _something_ in there,” he says, jutting his chin at the pool of lava.

“That's because it's the earth's blood!” she insists. “That's the most basic form of Din’s blessing to this world!”

Yeah, yeah. At least about the creation of the world Zayn has read about. Lava has given birth to the land. That’s why fire magic is regarded as creation magic despite its destructive power. He's read the scriptures enough times to be able to recite the sacred texts by heart.

“When all was chaos, three goddesses—Din, Farore and Nayru—descended from a Distant Nebula and began creation of this world,” he quotes to Navi. “Din cultivated the land and created the red earth.”

Navi zaps around his head upon being released.

“If you know all this, why are you worried? Don’t be!”

The question, in Zayn's view, is why she _isn't_ worried. It's true that this close to the Earth’s core the Mana flow reads especially strong, but— something is still off. There’s something else in there, albeit close to imperceptible. If he doesn't look for it, he doesn't notice it at all.

"No presence there, so I don't think there's anything alive in there.” Liam waves his Sheikah Slate, changing into his Hylian gear. “Would be a bit disturbed to find something that _can_ stay alive in there, to be fair.”

This might not be the time to remind Liam that the only ‘living’ beings they’ve met here are reanimated skeletons, lizard men and slugs on fire.

At least the rock path is steady under their feet. This is the only assurance the room provides, as Zayn approaches the gem. He takes his time, step by step, studying the trail ahead. Liam follows him backwards, so he won't get ambushed from behind, in case his hunch is correct.

“See?” Navi tinkles excitedly, up and down. “I told you—”

A single brandish of Zayn's sceptre sends them back to the entrance of the room. The altar they had stood on a mere moment ago disappears in the jaw of a colossal lizard. The creature crunches lava and stone, as if eating fresh bread, devouring the Goron’s Ruby in the process.

Liam points his sword at it. “A Dodongo?”

In its basic physiology, yes. In its enormous size, not remotely close. The ones Zayn has seen are no larger than a regular goat. Sometimes, a Dodongo will part with its pack, and often wander into farm areas and eat an unlucky farmer's livestock. Rarely happens, and it's one of the many jobs Hyrule’s troops take on in times of peace.

But yeah, a regular Dodongo isn't mountain-high, nor sports flaming horns. It shouldn't be able to swim in molten lava, either, though their hide is notorious for its resilience, coveted for high-end armour.

“King Dodongo!” Navi begins, “This is a huge Dodongo that eats anything! Give it a shock, and finish it off with your sword!”

“Dodge!” Liam shouts, and each part in a different direction.

The fireball the King Dodongo spits at them bursts in a wave of heat and flames, scorching the stone ground. The beast goes for a second shot, and this time Zayn teleports a boulder into its mouth.

“Nightshade Arts,” Liam vanishes, reappearing over the Dodongo’s head, “Thistle!”

What seems like a decisive blow, only results in a snapped blade. Liam's sword, enhanced twice by Cotera and her sister, doesn't even pierce the beast’s hide. King Dodongo crunches the boulder in its mouth and tail swats Liam against a wall.

“You fucking—” Zayn twirls his sceptre, and a vigorous lighting strikes the Dodongo down. He then teleports to Liam's side. “ _Leeyum! Leeyum,_ you alright?”

Liam springs from under the rubble, stretching his neck to each side twice.

“Okay, that hurt a bit,” he says, wiping a cut on his eyebrow. “That was my best blade, you fucking prick!”

Zayn sighs. If Liam has time to lament a sword, he's clearly well. Though the swearing means he's as livid as his furrowed brow hints at.

“Come here,” he says, trying not to chuckle at Liam's rant. “I'll heal your—”

Nothing.

“ _Shabnam-e-rooh._ ”

Still, nothing.

Not a single Nayru spell comes out. Farore and Din magic are fine. It’s just ice and water magic that he can't seem to conjure.

Well, King Dodongo won’t let them peacefully patch up, any way. It doesn't make _that_ much of a difference.

“I can't heal. Or use shields,” he tells Liam.

Liam smirks, tapping a forefinger to his temple. “We won't need those, if we end this quickly.”

While Zayn can't argue with its fundamental logic, it’s impossible not to find fault with this argument either. If on one hand he can point out that's not as easy as Liam makes it seem, they've also fought a fair share of hard battles for him to not know when Liam has a plan.

The details are discussed over their link, as they dodge fireballs and tail slaps. Liam's plan—and Zayn has expected as much—tiptoes that line between lunacy and brilliance. If it works, they claim victory. If it doesn't, well, they better find another alternative since there's only one phial of Chilly Elixir left.

“ _Dast-e-toofan_ ,” Zayn chants.

A gale whirls around Liam's Pegasus boots, turning into sparks, and the sparks into lighting. When King Dodongo charges at them, Zayn teleports them to different locations. He reappears behind the beast, whilst sending Liam above it.

Liam stomps down with both feet cloaked in lighting, all his strength and weight dropping on a single spot on King Dodongo’s head. The beast growls, its fangs instinctively seeking Liam's flesh. Again, Zayn whisks Liam away, this time placing him under King Dodongo's chin. A heavy split kick knocks the large jaw open.

“Zed!”

Zayn rapidly taps the _Ekrixi_ Rune on the Sheikah Slate in one hand, and with the other he teleports dozens of bombs into the King’s Dodongo throat.

“ _Leeyum_!”

Liam unleashes a charged kick at the exposed underbelly of the Dodongo.

Fire and smoke spews from King Dodongo’s mouth, as it suddenly inflates like a balloon. It growls one last time, collapsing lifeless into the lava.

Liam long whistles. “We blow it up, and the hide doesn’t even break!”

Hardly the time or place to be impressed by the monster's resilience, but it’s over. Now, all that's left is fishing the Goron’s Ruby from the beast’s innards.

Which have just been reduced to shambles.

“I'll wait here,” Zayn says. He claps Liam on the back, stepping away from where Liam peers into King Dodongo's maw. “It's a red gem. Don't forget that.”

He goes not too far, as a hand secures his wrist.

“You're not going?” Liam cocks an eyebrow.

Inside the corpse of the giant lizard they've imploded? What _even_ gives Liam this impression? Zayn cannot tell.

“Can't see in the dark, remember?” he replies instead. “You can do that wolf thingy and find it faster.”

However, Liam isn't buying this. He'll, he's not buying _anything_ , even if Zayn swears on his honour, it seems.

“I'm _not_ going there, Zed.” He shakes his head frantically. “We just exploded that thing— it's a mess on there. Worse than your lab.”

Zayn's eyes narrow. How dare he? Yeah, maybe he has a point, and it’s exactly the same thought that's occurred to Zayn, but what are best mates for? _Clearly_ they do sift through a pile of busted guts for you, right?

“You're going because I'm asking nicely.” Zayn smiles, dusting off Liam's shoulders. He also caresses Liam's cheek, wiping some sooth off. “And because that's an order from the Prince.”

“Oh, _now_ you want me to treat you like a Prince?” Liam's amusement isn't just louder than the laugh that follows. Actually, he titters, upon peeking into the corpse with his night vision, as the eye colour change suggests. “Sorry, mate. _Not_ happening.”

And because Zayn's hands are already on Liam's face, they just pinch his cheek and bottom lip. Liam counters by shoving both forefingers into Zayn's nostrils. It soon turns into a battle of endurance to see who admits defeat.

“Just put the old sceptre to its belly, and the gem will come out, boys!” Navi hovers between their faces. “No need to fight!”

_Let go, Leeyum._

_**You** let go first._

_On three, then._

They let go at the same time, and then burst into laughter. Fights in their childhood have never been many, but all went like this. The difference is they're no longer kids, and the hair on their faces makes it twice as ridiculous. So much for adulthood and maturity, apparently.

“Takes me back to those days,” Liam admits through a laugh.

When he smiles like this, Zayn sees that little boy of chubby cheeks and curly hair underneath this rugged bloke of thick beard. That adorable little boy has grown into a gorgeous man.

“Let's get that gem and leave before we roast here,” Zayn suggests.

Crimson light pours from King Dodongo’s mouth. A ruby emerges between its fangs, beckoning Zayn's sceptre to it. Gem and sceptre fuse together, like with the previous stones, and from this union a golden staff with a rainbow coloured sphere is born.

_Descendant of Hylia,  
_ _I, Din, Goddess of fire, shall grant you my blessing.  
_ _Claim the powers of flames and protect the land I have cultivated._

Zayn catches his new staff, as it descends onto his hands.

“It got bigger again.” He swings it in the air, focusing on the sound the wings make. “Hard to believe it used to be a wee wand.”

A muffled laugh escapes Liam.

“Sorry. It sounded... a bit funny,” he says.

For one, Zayn is sure Liam is not sorry at all. Not when he's literally on the verge of crying from sucking his lips inwardly. His face is growing red—redder—and it's not from the heat.

Zayn slaps his arm, and the hit only prompts a belly laugh. Liam literally doubles down with laughter, clutching his chest.

“It's really a gutter you have for a head isn't it?” Zayn says, though a traitorous smile twitches at the corner of his own lips. “The only innocent thing about ya is your face!”

_The time has come. Come forth, Prince and hero!_

This other voice is gone as sudden as it speaks. A glare swallows them, the Dodongo, and the room.

Zayn risks a peek when the intense light dies out. Gone are heat, lava, and the sulphuric stench. A meadow surrounded in pine trees has replaced them with a cool breeze, grass and a sweet aroma. He recognises this smell; would do so even with both eyes closed.

“It smells like you.” Liam joins him, sniffing the air. Surly enough, a bed of Silent Princesses circles the marble pedestal that stands out among all the vegetation. “Did you bring us here?”

No, because Zayn has no idea where _‘here’_ even is. He can't teleport anyone—himself included—to a place he hasn't visited before. One thing for sure: they're no longer in Fire Temple, least of all close to Death Mountain.

_Rejoice, for the Sage of Light is reborn!_

_Tha’ voice!_ Zayn dashes to the pedestal, following the strong Mana sensed.

_Greetings! Long time no see, Hylian Prince and Sheikah Warrior._

Liam is the first one to crouch to the tiny creature's size, allowing it to hop onto his palms. Something that Zayn wouldn't recommend, but again, Liam more than anyone else would sniff out the little plant’s killing intent.

_At last, time has come to fulfil the prophecy._

The tiny fae rises one of its stubby arms in the air, collecting a light strong as pure sunlight. It bathes the silent princesses that then reflect it on the marble pedestal. The tall slab splits into four parts, like a flower in bloom, unveiling a sword stuck in the pillar left in the middle.

_Wield the evil banishing blade, O Hero of Time!_

Zayn stares at Liam.

“Hold your horses, little fella,” Liam tells it. “ _Who_ are you?”

Navi rams straight into his face.

“Hey! Show proper respect for the Great Deku tree!” she chides.

Okay, now Zayn is sure she's lost the plot in the heat of the Fire Temple. Or maybe _they all_ have.

#

“I knew you’d be here.”

Liam lifts his gaze from his clenched fist to the doorway, where Zayn watches him with a sympathetic smile. He sheathes his new sword and waves Zayn in.

“It's a lot to take in,” he admits, letting a titter escape him. “Wasn't expecting this much responsibility.”

Zayn joins him on the wood bench, much closer than necessary. Their shoulders bump when he sits down, and he doesn't make a motion to move.

“Welcome to my life,” Zayn says, handing him a bottle of green potion. Although his initial tone is light and playful, there's an underlying resentment Liam cannot miss. “I'd be lying to say I wasn't happy to finally share it with someone. With _you_.”

Liam can guess. Whilst both have shoulders burdened since birth, he'd say Zayn's responsibility always weighed more. On his shoulders, Liam carries the role of becoming a living beacon for reuniting Sheikah and Hylians, like his parents. But on Zayn's shoulders, it's always been about all of this _plus_ the expectations that come with a royal title.

In a way, it's as if Zayn shoulders a similar burden, but _twice_ as much.

Zayn points to the Master Sword. “Always knew you’re a handful, but now you’re literally worth four people.”

“Oi!”

However, Zayn’s tone lacks malice, and the way he bumps their shoulders together only confirms it. He's spoken less the past few days, so a little banter allows Liam to breathe a little easier. Because, out of anything he could say, something that's familiar to both works best. With or without words.

And Zayn's has clearly chosen the former.

“I need to tell you something.”

The words tumble out of Zayn's lips, tentatively. Restrained, at the very best. Liam lowers his bottle, without the second sip his lips go for. This requires his full attention.

“I need you to hear this till the end,” he says, tone a little more sure.

And so, Liam listens. About reservations, expectations, hopes and fears. He remains silent the entire time, clinging to every word. He only interferes—and here makes a point of keeping it brief—to throw an eventual nod of encouragement.

If his own experiences hold any weight, what Zayn _needs_ to say and what Zayn _wants_ to say don't always coincide.

“We don't know what will happen from now on— Wha’ I'm trying to say is... Thank you for staying by side,” he finally says. “I wouldn't have come this far without your help, _Leeyum_.”

Liam smiles. Maybe because Zayn also smiles, albeit bashful from his admission. Or maybe because he doesn't need thanks, and would do it all over again, even if not thanked at all.

“You don't have to.” He balances Zayn’s chin on his fingertip. “I'd do anything to see you happy again. Always.”

Tittering, Zayn pushes his hand away. The soft _“doughnut!”_ is an insult Liam will gladly take, if it means more of this bashful smile. Because this is the smile where Zayn’s tongue gets caught between his front teeth.

He hasn't pointed it out, but he's noticed how Zayn smiles less often these days. And no, Zayn doesn’t owe him (or anyone) smiles. What matters is that a knot in his chest comes undone. All by seeing Zayn can still smile.

“There's one more thing, though...” Zayn sucks his lips inwards. “It's actually why I'm here.”

Oh. Okay. Maybe he wants to join Liam in sword training. He's got the hang of wielding a blade, so it comes as no surprise that he'd want to go over something before they face Vaati again.

Things _won't_ go like their last encounter. And if Vaati is using the Yiga for his plans, that's one more reason to bring him down.

Liam beams, leaping to his feet. “Don't think I'm going easy—”

“I love you.”

_Wait, wait, wait._

“We don't know what will happen from now on,'' Zayn carries on, pursing his lips for a long pause. He slowly lifts his eyes from his hands, forcing a smile that's more a grimace than a grin. “We never did, actually. I've come to realise tha’ a tad too late, I suppose.”

Liam readily sits down, half-empty bottle set aside. Zayn’s hands don't differ much from ice in his. Softer, yes, but a lot cooler than the spring that dawns upon Hyrule. He desperately encases them, hoping to warm them up.

“I love you, too, Zed,” he replies. “You know that.”

However, Zayn shakes his head vehemently, eyes squeezed shut. His left hand cups Liam’s cheek, and then his lips meld with Liam's, lingering before breaking apart.

“You don't mean it the same way I do.” His soft thumb, strokes Liam's cheekbone. “That's wha’ I mean.”

Words rush to his lips, but none come out. At least Liam doesn't think they do, as his pointy ears don't register any. Surely he must say something back, acknowledge what he's just heard? How will Zayn know he's listening, if he keeps this fish act, mouth open and unblinking?

The words are here, he wills them out, yet silence remains. On his part. Because Zayn lists a series of reasons—some that even make Liam doubt he's the one Zayn refers to—to justify his feelings.

“I know it can't be. Believe me: _I know_.” Zayn takes a deep, shaky breath. “But after seeing you almost die, after almost dying, I prefer not to take this regret to the grave. Sorry.”

Luckily, Liam's body reacts quicker than his mind, or he'd let Zayn flee and leave it unresolved. He's heard it, yes. Might as well have processed parts, or the gist of it. The one thing he doesn't understand is why Zayn feels compelled to apologise.

“Why are you apologising?” he asks, only loosening his grip when it doesn't seem like Zayn will teleport away. “You've done nothing wrong.”

Zayn scoffs. “Cos all you need is more of my problems in your hands!”

Only that Liam had never thought of anything as Zayn’s problems. If it affects Zayn, it affects him. That's how it's always been since their first days of existence. To this very moment they've been in sync, sharing whatever and whenever they feel like. It shouldn't change.

Liam _won't_ let it change.

It's rough and spontaneous, but also just about necessary to silence Zayn. If Liam goes with a spontaneous reaction, that's because it's fair to match Zayn’s honesty. For once in his life, cling to this small egoism and cast duty aside.

“Your problem is _my_ problem,” he corrects, eyebrows raised as high as they go. His grip on Zayn’s nape loosens, as he leans back, putting some space between their faces. Right now, he doesn't trust himself this close to Zayn. “Get it through that thick royal skull of yours that I care about you. I do what I do because I'm your knight, yeah. But also because I—”

The same digit to silence Liam’s lips eventually visits Zayn’s.

“Don't say it.”

Despite the soft whispered tone, the urgency in these words transpire as well as the tear eyed smile.

“Don't say it,” Zayn repeats, a little more sure. “I crave nothing more than hearing those words... But if I hear them, I might lose resolve and give in to selfishness.” He gulps some air, voice already cracking. “I fear... I fear I might choose you over the life that awaits us after all this.”

It's only upon burying his face in silky, raven hair that Liam realises he, too, has tears in his eyes. Zayn has given it more thought than he has. _Way_ more thought. To him, this final battle will bring their friends and family back. To Zayn, it's all of this and _more_.

As he so sombrely puts, whether they succeed or not, reality will change for both. No more trips just for them, or digging up forgotten history together. Zayn will have a fiancée—if not Princess Mipha, then another one—and matters that only concern him and her. This space in his life, that Liam now occupies, is fated to be someone else's.

It's a borrowed spot, limited in time, and never meant to be Liam’s, in the first place.

When looking at this from this standpoint, it's truly a hopeless, losing game.

“Hey! Listen to me!” Liam breaks their embrace, holding Zayn at arm's length. “I'll always be next to you, all right? It doesn't matter how.”

Zayn reaches out, his thumb scratching lightly at the wide patch of hair connecting Liam’s bottom lip and chin. He keeps it till Liam giggles and both are smiling again.

“I reckon I didn't cope too well the past ten years,” he replies, as his eyes wander over Liam’s features, focusing on the lips. “And now the past months spoilt me rotten.”

Neither bring up the weight this conversation carries. Maybe they just don't dare. There's no use dwelling in matters out of their control, really. Instead, they agree to focus on the present, whilst doing their best for the future. One battle at time.

Walking their way back to their rooms seems preferable over shadestepping or teleporting. A long leisurely walk across the castle to help clear their thoughts a bit. At least that's Liam’s intention when suggesting a visit to the castle towers. Not the best stargazing weather tonight, but also nothing some wind magic can't do about a cloudy sky.

“We’re keeping this time for ourselves,” Liam explains, upon finding Zayn’s bewildered look when he laces their fingers together. He kisses Zayn's knuckles.“If I can be yours tonight, I'll be more than happy.”

They remain outside till the first yawns arrive. That's Liam’s cue to lead Zayn back in for a good night of sleep. Starting tomorrow, they should search for clues on Vaati’s whereabouts.

“ _Leeyum_ , wait.”

Liam turns around to find a hand pinching at the leg of his loose training trousers. Zayn’s eyes remain glued to the floor, and he's oddly silent again.

“Uhh... Were you serious a moment ago?” he asks.

Liam nods because, yeah, there hasn't been many moments for his goofiness tonight. Then, he realises Zayn can't see his reply by staring at their feet.

“The _seriousest_ I've been in my entire life!” he chirps. His right fist comes to rest on the right side of his chest. “Knight's honour.”

Zayn slowly raises his eyes. “I... want you to take me.”

He nods again. “Take you where? It can't be too far, ‘cos we need—”

“...Like on those books under your bed, I mean.”

The many facts Liam can infer from this statement. One, Zayn has found the erotica his mate Leif writes. Two, Zayn has _read_ them, otherwise he wouldn't know what the male leads do halfway into the book. And finally three, Zayn isn't fazed by any of it.

“Y-You wanna—” he crosses his forefingers alternately, like blades in a fight, “—is that what you're saying?”

Zayn timidly lifts both hands, one forming a circle and one with his index finger sticking out. Before he has the chance to merge them, Liam grabs his wrists.

“On Hylia’s goodness, don't do that,” Liam says, panting. He supposes the news of Zayn knowing about couples’ intimacy—likely his fault—has knocked the air out of him.

He makes a mental note of _skinning_ Leif later.

“It's not like, hm, my future queen can even have that part of me.”

Liam freezes up. His eyes might fall out of their sockets, dare he open them any wider. This is a dive from the highest point of The Rito village without his paraglider. He just plummets straight into the thick layer of snow to die buried in ice. If Queen Tashifa as much as _dreams_ about this, she's getting him neutered, then skinned, then beheaded, then chopped up and thrown to a pack of baby Dodongos.

“Where are you learning these kinds of things?!” he shrieks unintentionally. “Oh Goddess. Don't answer, please! The Queen—”

The floor disappears from under Liam’s feet, as he finds himself flung onto the bed staring at an angry scowl.

“This is about us. Not _Baba_ , or anyone else.” Zayn brow furrows, then smooths over again. “I just want to know if you wanna touch me like I want you to. That's all.”

Liam reaches a hand tentatively. Might as well be his body admitting what he can't bring himself to say. He wouldn't know. What matters is that he gently brings Zayn’s face to meet his, till their lips meld together.

If he's allowed to forget about the world. If for one moment, brief as it may be, he's allowed a choice—

“Stay with me.” His own words grit his ears, for how needy they are in this hushed tone. “Be mine tonight.”

From this moment, Liam abandons himself to cravings he'd assumed long gone, purged from his being through hard training. How naive he's been to ever believe that. Because the moment he finds his hands guided to soft skin, he really starts mapping the contour of Zayn’s spine, all the way down to the arse.

He also notices Zayn tastes sweeter, compared to the few times they inadvertently locked lips. Before, it would leave a bittersweet taste on his tongue, and he wonders if it'd been guilt-induced, or for self-imposed restrictions. Regardless, when Zayn kisses him, Liam allows himself to be kissed _and_ to kiss back.

“Tell me if I do something wrong,” he hears Zayn whispers into his neck, whilst kissing a path to his pecs.

As soon as the warmth of lips reach his nipple, Liam is convinced that won't be an issue. _At all_. Much more interesting is the hand splayed against his chest, roaming his abs, and coming to fumble with his waistband. Zayn can part with it with a quick spell, but instead teases him, testing waters with two playful fingers.

Liam moans louder than intended upon getting his dick squeezed. It's not even a particularly hard squeeze: he's just surprised by how different all this touching feels from anything done in their younger days. Covering his mouth is an option, but then Zayn brings a hungry tongue into his mouth, solving his problem.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” Zayn asks, once his lips let go of Liam’s tongue. The way he licks them only aggravates the throbbing in Liam’s trousers. “You'll feel even better now.”

And Zayn stays true to his word, untying the string, and kissing his way lower than Liam’s navel. No longer then he peels the trousers to ankle height, he licks his way up again, welcoming Liam into velvety warmth.

Liam would close his eyes, had they been open, in the first place. He reaches for Zayn’s hair, though never quite getting a good fistful of it. Is he allowed? Won't it make Zayn uncomfortable? A safer choice is to just fist the silky covers underneath them.

All these fade into a haze in the back of his mind, though. His hand finds guidance again, this time into Zayn’s hair. His only concern is to remain gentle, especially when wet warmth swallows him for a few seconds before exposing him to cool air again.

He hasn't even bathed after training. Yet, Zayn savours him with the attention worthy of a delicacy. Wet tongue along the underside, and lips covering his length. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“I've always wanted to do this,” Zayn confesses against his lips, having come up to claim them again. “You like it?”

Rather than tell, Liam prefers to _show_. One arm wrapped around Zayn’s midsection, he flips them over. He only halts to admire the swollen lips he owes the pleasure that still lingers in his groin.

“I love it,” he replies, thumb brushing over Zayn’s bottom lip. And maybe the surprise when Zayn sucks on it isn't warranted. “My turn.”

All the times he's undressed Zayn before don't amount to the thrill that courses through his body. Not remotely close. It's a matter of intention, he supposes. Whereas he’s done it to get Zayn in bed or the bath, here he has no intention of clothing Zayn back. Eventually, yes, but not right away.

Licking his lips, Liam pinches each side of Zayn’s vest. Zayn has already raised both arms, and added a tiny nod. This is all the permission he needs to carry on. Slow and steady, he pulls it off, beholding Zayn’s bare torso.

“My hands are a bit rough,” he warns, placing them on Zayn’s shoulders.

As expected, Zayn’s smooth skin becomes even silkier in this context. There's a chance it's just that the little whimpers make Liam more aware of his own touch, too. Every little sound of pleasure emboldens him. What starts with cupping pecs, soon evolves into nipple nibbling, and even a daring hand slithering into Zayn’s underpants.

"Fuck, babe!” Zayn hisses. Hushed and desperate. He rarely swears, but if this succeeds in getting rid of this rule for him, then Liam _is_ doing something right.

And what better time to test it and push other boundaries than now?

Liam lays Zayn down again, and starts peeling Zayn’s underpants, in the same way done to him. The manoeuvre has Zayn's legs up in the air, and the position gives him inspiration to try something new for both.

“ _Leeyum_ —? Oh fuck!”

He backs off Zayn's entrance, sliding his tongue out. “Is it good?”

Zayn giggles before raising his torso to reply between his own legs.

“A bit weird, but... _amazing_.”

Good. As long as it's an amazing kind of weird, Liam doesn't mind. Far from it, given that he readily resumes, licking, kissing and prodding Zayn's opening. Tenderly and thoroughly.

By the time he provides Zayn's front the deserved attention, he's met with a clear, sticky mess he enjoys at his own leisure. Might be taken as teasing—as Zayn so emphatically puts it—but he just wants to savour every drop. Lightly squeezing out each clear bead and then lick them off straight off Zayn's slit.

“Wait, wait.” Zayn frantically taps his shoulder. “Let me taste you too.”

A little self-conscious about the stains he's left and the undeniable stiffy maintained even unattended, Liam agrees. They do the good head-to-tail pattern, though neither seek sleep. He takes Zayn in his mouth just as Zayn takes him in his, and all the previous sensations are suddenly doubled. The pleasure he gives, he receives back, in a perfect cycle that their bodies form.

It comes too close, for both, to finishing earlier than intended.

“I reckon we don't suck at this,” he says, giving one final peck to the base of Zayn’s dick. “Well, we _do_ , but you get it.”

Even squeezing his eyes shut, landing a playful slap to Liam’s thigh isn't any trouble for Zayn. Liam doesn't mind. That begrudging laugh is what makes the pun all the more satisfying, rather.

“I'm still waiting to _get it,_ actually.” Zayn runs the same offender hand along Liam’s inner thigh. Higher and higher till his thumb brushes lightly against the fold where leg and groin meet. “Right?”

Although they both glance down at Liam, their reactions clash. Zayn smirks, the smuggest he's ever been, whilst Liam glares at his own body for its enthusiastic response. Years of training to withstand pain and torture, but suddenly having lips on his skin is enough to twitch like a dog’s tail.

Still, there's little point in denying it. They've come to a point of honesty even greater tonight. There's more to baring their bodies than solely desire, and Liam has accepted this truth for the remainder of the night.

Once Zayn coats him with a slippery water spell, Liam gets in position. Slotted between Zayn’s legs, he aligns their bodies and begins a careful prodding.

A single, timid digit, at first. It does no more than outline Zayn’s hole, gauging his reaction. He soon—and here Zayn might disagree on his conception of the word—changes into a more daring approach, sliding his middle finger in. Just exploring around, massaging with gentle thrusts, and small wiggles and rotations.

“ _Leeyum_... Please...”

Something in the way the words come out, breathed out, tells Liam he can't wait much longer, either. In the same careful manner he's slid his finger in, he slides it out and crawls over Zayn.

Face to face, he's able to better measure his actions. The last thing he'd want is to hurt or cause Zayn discomfort, though what he finds surpasses his expectations.

There's no pain or a wince. What Liam finds is eyes hazy with desire, and parted lips awaiting his next move in an amused little grin.

“Come here, babe,” Zayn tells him, pulling him forwards. This closes the small gap between their lower halves, as he slowly guides Liam’s tip in. “Make me yours.”

Liam's breath gets hitched in his throat, as he slowly accepts Zayn’s warm invitation. By opening his mouth in surprise of the new feeling, he allows Zayn to kiss his surprise away. In no time, he's proper buried, down to his last inch.

“Are you all right?” he asks between breaths. With his eyes shut, he can further marvel their skins together. “Fuck, this is brill!”

Zayn chuckles, peppering his eyelids in tiny pecks. “Start moving, yeah?”

No doubt that Liam obliges. Hips swaying back and forth, he starts little thrusts that expose maybe an inch of himself before he's deep into Zayn. He doesn't dare anything too audacious, like in Leif’s book, but this works fine for them. It's not like he can go anywhere locked in Zayn’s legs, any way. Wouldn't want to miss on their less than prude kisses, either.

This is just them, their bodies and existences merged together. Right now, Liam focuses on giving his all to this man under him. The one he's known as long as his own existence. The one he’d make the whole world his enemy for. The one in his arms that can make him laugh, that gives him strength to brave through any hardships.

Liam takes one of the hands on his neck into his own hand, lacing their fingers. He repeats with Zayn's other hand, and when finally pinning down, he beholds the sight he desperately tries to brand into his brain.

“Even though I won't say it,” he starts, trying to regain his breath, “know that this place—” he frees his right hand to hit a balled fist to the left side of his chest “—has never been anyone's but yours.”

Whiskey-coloured eyes glisten almost as readily as the words leave Liam’s lips. For a brief instant he worries about unknowingly thrusting too hard, but then Zayn's lips tremble and blossom into a smile. He guides Liam's hand to his own chest, placing his hand on Liam's chest, in return.

“These are the words we have no need to speak, for we are one right now.”

Yes, it’s under Liam’s palm. A thunderous heartbeat that mirrors his own. A swirl of emotions that have culminated into this moment. No matter what they say, or rather _don't_ , these heartbeats, together, are enough.

Whys or ifs have no place. All that there is, right now, is their bodies and hearts. Their passion and desperation that has both clinging to these memories that are still in the making. It's their rhythm, their sweat, and their bare souls.

Liam speeds up his pace, though still ever so gentle. It helps that Zayn only let's go off his lips to whisper encouragement and nibbles at his ears.

“You're gonna make me finish, like that,” he warns.

Zayn sucks at his neck. “Perfect.”

Hard to disagree, when he knows he won't last much longer, at any rate. This knot in his loins demands to be undone, threatening to burst through him, if need be. Likewise to Zayn, he supposes, who remains hard despite being left unattended. (Not intentionally, but at one point Liam has run out of hands.)

He thrusts and thrusts, latching kisses back at Zayn’s sweaty neck. His limit approaches, he can tell. Before it arrives, he directs his efforts to shorter thrusts, pointedly chasing that more prominent _‘ah'_ that he bases his actions on.

“ _Leeyum—_ ”

Relentless. That's the word Liam would use for himself in this particular situation. He knows exactly what Zayn tries to warn him, and that's more the reason to go deeper, till warmth gushes between their chests and nails sink into his back.

Zayn’s moans become an alluring melody to his ears, and soon he also comes undone. The last thrust goes the deepest he can. As his groin unties, he pulses and gushes against Zayn’s warm walls. He still thrusts a few more times, much slower than before, till Zayn pulls him in by his fuzzy cheeks.

“Don't leave yet,” Zayn tells him, tightening around him.

More kisses follow, now with reduced energy. They're spent. Liam a little more, for all the cardio they've just finished. Spent and limp, he slides out of Zayn and rolls to the side.

“That was... _Wow_ ,” he says upon regaining his breath. “Definitely really, really amazing.”

One of Zayn's hands comes to smear more of the silver painted across his chest hair.

“This is the first time I'm happy about getting sweaty with you,” Zayn admits. “I prefer ‘crossing blades’ like this, to be fair.”

Liam pokes his side in retaliation. Only once, then decides for a full-on tickle attack when Zayn refuses to take it back. The toll from their passion remains, and soon neither has much energy left to tickle, settling for a sticky hug. A hug so tight, just like meeting again the first in years.

“Royal prick.”

“You weren't complaining about my ‘royal prick’,” Zayn retorts, and to make a point, humps against Liam, prompting a sneaky moan. “See?”

As much as both would prefer to carry on with their leisurely kissing, their mess needs proper attention. Zayn suggests they wash up and eat something, whereas Liam has slightly different plans.

“We're... not doing it again?” He half believes his own ears, and maybe it's the same for Zayn and the eyebrow cocked at him. “I mean, uh... Do you want to? It's cool if you don't, though!”

Zayn props himself on an elbow, his free hand swiping up and down Liam’s torso. It goes as low as the groin area, then comes back up to draw ghostly, barely there circles Liam’s right nipple.

“Not so shy about ravaging your prince again, are we?”

 _Goddess._ He may or may not start wondering if he has a weakness for these bursts of cockiness, because his body’s readiness mortifies him as much as it amuses him. The lower Zayn’s hand goes, the more he grows twitchy and alive.

“If we only have tonight, might as well make it last,” he replies, struggling to not let self consciousness end him. “We've done it already. Once or twice more won't be a problem.”

Zayn grins. Not a smug one as he's done for the most of their night, but rather soft.

“I love that I corrupted ya a little bit,” he says. The small kiss to Liam’s chest overflows with tenderness rather than wanton.

Although Liam rolls his eyes, he pulls Zayn in. He should point out that's been their entire lives: he'd follow the rules, whilst Zayn would seek ways of challenging it. Has always been like this, and there's no sign it'll change.

This time, though, he doesn't mind— or tries not to. Tonight, and tonight only, he'll allow himself to hold Zayn like he won't ever be allowed to. Tonight, they're for each other, and the entire world is this room.

What morning will bring is something they will deal with when it comes. Till it does, it’s their turn to do so.

#

Zayn stirs awake to harsh sunlight on his face. The sun this high— is it that late already? He has no doubt he's past his usual waking time, all the _“five more minutes”_ he usually begs of Liam included.

Liam... The previous night comes to him like memories of a delicious dream. Their lips, hands, and sweat orchestrating a spectacle of pleasure and tenderness. Their first time intimate with each other and admitting their feelings.

Zayn smiles to himself. Harder and wider when he catches the asleep face glued to his back, drooling on his shoulder. He's safe in Liam’s arms. Hairy, muscular arms ready to fight for him, but that also carry security and tenderness, draped around his waist like this.

Last night he lived a dream he won't ever forget.

But morning is here, turning tomorrow into today. And today he isn't Liam’s Zayn. Likewise, Liam is no longer his Liam. Today, they have responsibilities to their Kingdom and people to protect. Today, they take the first step of putting an end to this madness.

And also to their life together.

“ _Leeyum_? Babe, wake up,” he tries softly, at the same time trying to disentangle himself as quietly as possible. A contradiction, he knows, but anyone watching Liam asleep would refrain from waking him up. “ _Leeyum_?”

“I'm awake,” Liam mumbles back. He sits up, blinking sleep away. “I'm up. I promise I am.”

Zayn's eyes immediately land on the tent under the sheets. Yeah, he can see that. Not what Liam means, but _yeah_. He'll refrain from joking about it, lest it triggers Liam’s usual flight response. Just like he also refrains from capturing that pouty bottom lip with his.

A fierce exercise of self-control, now that he knows what is like to not have Liam reciprocate.

“C’mon, we're already late!” he urges.

No mention of the previous night, as expected. There's an undeniable extra care in how they wash each other, but again, no one dares to point it out. They're both more free and more restrained than before, Zayn supposes. As if they try to keep the prior level of closeness without crossing into this form of intimacy they've just discovered, forbidden to them.

Zayn fears they've opened a door that now hangs open, with jammed hinges.

And speaking of doors...

“Can’t be _that_ ‘forbidden’ if we come here all the time, can it?”

Zayn balls a fist, healing the fresh cut on his palm. He steps into the secret room already headed to the pedestal with three large tomes upon it.

“We need answers; Baba isn't here; Midna said to ask him,” he lists, as if this alone justifies a second visit. “Purah said we should look for answers here.”

There’s no particular thrill in disobeying his dad so often, but he needs to cross-fact Purah’s story. If her spell works, that’s already a good indicator. She has no reason to lie, but again, ‘academic curiosity’ as she dubs it, compels him to dig up details.

“Sands of the hourglass, bury the past for a future anew,” he chants, hand held out. “Gravel of times cast into dawn, beacon of hope, show us the light!”

At the end of incantation, Zayn places his hand on the pedestal. The barrier surrounding the tomes dissolves.

“ _Baghawati Jang_... Something like ‘Interloper War’,” he translates. “It's about the Great War.”

A long register of it, too. Although historian curiosity screams at him, a careful reading will wait for another time. Right now, must focus on the information he seeks. And he can't enlist Liam's help, since it's all written in archaic Hylian. It's just him and a minor spell to flip pages quickly.

Most of the pages offer only text, but a few have illustrations. Those are useful when seeking something that might have visual representation.

“Wait. There’s a Sheikah eye in there,” Liam says at one point.

Zayn reverses the wind direction and slows it down. Indeed, there's a smaller depiction of the Sheikah crest on the corner of a page.

“Among the Sheikah, our most loyal servants, a faction of dissidents has risen. They seek to overthrow the Royal family and usurp their power through use of their shadow magic.”

They exchange wary glances. This document reveals a previous Hylian-Sheikah alliance. Is this why his dad poured so much effort into raising Liam and sending him away?

The answer for it, or, a great part of it, comes several pages in. A lone page that has only one line written on it. All the remaining space is for an intricate artefact that both recognise: a stone helmet that covers the head down to the shoulders.

Liam squeezes Zayn's shoulder. “That's Midna's crown... innit?”

“Physical manifestation of powerful shadow magic— Fused Shadow,” Zayn translates. He leafs through a handful more pages, reaching a faithful drawing of that mirror Midna has broken and the arena hidden in the Gerudo Desert, Arbiter’s Ground. “They were... exiled.”

“As punishment for treason and dwelling in occult arts, the Interlopers are sentenced to banishment from this realm. The Twilight Mirror, gifted by the Goddesses of Creation, shall be the key to the lands where light shall not bless.”

Zayn reads no more pages. One, he doubts he can stomach what other secrets this tome hides. Weren't the Sheikah supposedly magic incompatible? Two, Liam's unusual silence worries him more than anything else.

“ _Leeyum_?”

“That's why everybody hates me,” he mumbles, instead of answering Zayn's call. “We really betrayed your family.”

_"Hylian royalty, eh? With a Sheikah?  
_ _Seems like this world has grown more interesting!"_

Realisation hits Zayn like the club of a Moblin. Back then, he'd thought Cotera alluded to their friendship, or something.

He grabs Liam's face, barely acknowledging the tome dropped at their feet.

“You did nothing wrong, babe.” He doesn't mean to shake Liam, but he's afraid that's what he ends up doing. “It has nothing to do with you. With _us_. It never had.”

Thankfully, Liam hugs back when Zayn pulls him into his arms. Too many little kisses pepper his neck, too, and none of them have intention— they're reassuring and protective, just like the _“I trust you with my life”_ chanted in a whisper.

Once Liam has calmed down—or maybe it's Zayn who does, really—they leave the forbidden chamber. There's more to read and even more to learn, but this should suffice for today. For the whole _year_ , rather.

The reason for all unwarranted hostility since birth has truly been a grudge held against Liam's ancestors. It's a relief, in part, because it's not directed at Liam as a person. It also confirms what Zayn already knows: it's impossible to not love Liam. Those who don't, simply don't know him.

_“Let’s say we lost our king because of greed and power hunger.”_

Midna’s words carry a new meaning. That had been Zayn’s first and last time asking her about the Princess’ dad. Now that he thinks about it, it might not have been about her dad at all.

The more they dig, the more Zayn wonders how much he knows about his own history.

Or if he knows anything at all.

#

“Ready?” Liam asks, his large palm suspended between them.

He rests his hand on it, squeezing tightly. “As ever before.”

They start the long string of visits in the same order covered the first time. To the Kokiri they go visit the (tiny) Great Deku Tree and the flowers of its children. According to the (currently) sapling, once it recovers more power, it should be able to speed up their growth.

Next is Cotera. The Great Fairy Queen has a few words of wisdom to impart to them, as well as a special gift for Liam. Her self-proclaimed ultimate work, a shield made of all Dodongo Skin and the Silver Lynel’s parts. An exact copy of Liam’s battered Hylian shield, only much more refined.

“May the Goddess smile upon you,” she tells them upon farewell.

With no affairs left in the Lost Woods, they visit Fishing Resort, again in disguise. Chessica’s reaction induces a little pang of guilt for lying to her yet again, but they're glad she's okay. The same can't be said for the Zora, as they find the Zora’s Domain lifeless, the true portrait of a ghost town.

“Somebody must have survived out there. I'm sure of that,” Liam insists, guiding them out of the castle.

That's a nice thought to hang on to. There's no sign of corpses anywhere, despite 99% of the population ill on their last visit, and every house is empty. No Mana except the natural flow of the cave.

Currently, they have no way of reaching the Twilight Kingdom, so they cross Midna from their list for now. Time to check on Liam's friends in the hidden village.

Transportation is on Liam this time. Chances are that Lars hasn't warmed up to Zayn in just a week. Teleporting into the village might come across as provocation, too.

Once there, Liam leaves to talk in private with his mate. He'd let Zayn know the night before: Lisa, the Sheikah girl Vaati manipulated, was Lars’ sister. Hardly the kind of news to break out to someone with their “nemesis” around. Lana keeps him company till Liam and a puffy-eyed Lars find them on the plaza.

“I'll bring her home,” he hears Liam say, and then they say their goodbyes.

Mostly because Liam insists on duelling with his mate Leif, for some reason.

Their visit to the Rito is much more brief. The first stop is Brazen Beak to pay for their clothes. The rupees they once carried are likely still scattered, frozen underneath the everlasting snow after fighting the Golden Lynel.

Conversations with Purah and Kaneli are also kept short, and even shorter with Molli and her dads. Despite all the pleas for them to stay for a choir presentation, too. And now that Zayn thinks about it, Liam’s popularity with kids amazes him. An honest-to-Goddess sensation among kids of every race. He supposes it's a glimpse into the future, and he's witnessing a wonderful dad in the making.

A thought that shouldn't cause his stomach to drop to his feet as it does. Hardly because it lacks appeal, but for it doesn’t concern him.

Lastly, but not the least, they stop by Death Mountain to finally meet the Goron Chief.

What they find is a village bustling with activity. Gorons of every build—from tiny to twice their size—run back and forth, pushing trolleys with rocks, coal, and gems. The raw materials used for rupees also comes from here.

“If that's not the tiny prince all grown-up!”

An especially burly Goron of greying, spiky hair trudges in their direction, arms wide open. Liam shares a glance with Zayn.

_You know him?_

Zayn stares at the beastman approaching. There's only him, Liam and Navi. Unless either of his friends has inherited a kingdom overnight, he's the only prince available.

_I'm pretty sure we haven't met._

Well, the boastful Goron disagrees. He effortlessly lifts Zayn in the air, like King Yaser when deciding to buy art. Only that Zayn’s not for sale, and Liam’s cocked eyebrow carries the bad sort of amusement.

“You look just like your dad!” The Goron laughs, and up to now _Bwahahaha_ had been the kind of laugh Zayn considered exclusive to literature. “How's that old dog doing?”

Zayn can pinpoint the moment something inside Liam snaps. He better act now, or things will get murky.

“Apologies sir, for I have no recollection of a previous meeting.” He teleports out of the Goron’s grasp, offering an apologetic smile. “I presume you are Chief Darunia? I'm Zayn of Hyrule, and this is my appointed kni— ”

“That tiny Sheikah boy! I didn't even recognise you!” Chief Darunia exclaims, lifting Liam just as easily. “Quite different when you're not crying all the time!”

“You should introduce yourself first! It's on your face that they don't know who you are.”

 _Finally,_ someone with some sense. No words can convey Zayn’s gratitude when a lanky, small Goron and his cane approach. The elder Goron whacks Chief Darunia on the head, who puts Liam down without as much as flinching.

“Allow me to apologise in my meathead of a son’s instead,” the hunch-backed elder says. “Welcome to Goron Village, Your Highness. I'm Darmani, and this is my idiotic son and the village chief, Darunia.’”

Zayn reciprocates the bow, followed by Liam. “Forgive such unannounced visit, but we have dire matters to discuss.”

Chief Darunia and his dad exchange a concerned glance.

#

The Arbiter’s Ground stands as creepy as ever. Empty, daunting. It stands plagued with the souls of criminals sentenced on this very ground. Although unused in centuries, it refuses to disappear, just like the scars from the last sentence here delivered.

But if this is their chance to put an end to this madness, he'll set foot here again. To answer to the trust and help of everyone along the way, and for all those who can't do anything about it.

Exhaling, Zayn steps to the centre of the arena. Staff high on the air, he summons the Sages of old.

The crystal on his staff shines, flooding the entire area in white light. Azure flames light up over each statue’s head, and otherworldly voices welcome him with great reverence.

“Teach me how to repair the broken mirror.”

His request is clear. If all he's learnt is founded, he should be able to do something about it. Otherwise, there's little sense for the will and powers he's inherited.

_“Making whole of what's shattered demands forbidden magic.  
_ _For this reason, we are not to help you.”_

“What they really mean is that they _can't_ use shadow magic,” a female voice sneers.

The top of a head emerges from Liam’s shadow on the floor. A figure leaps out in Zayn’s direction, but gets intercepted by Liam's blade before it reaches him.

The masked woman yanks the wraps that cover her mouth and nose, letting out a long _ahh_.

“To think you'd catch up to my speed before old age got to me!” She beams at them. “As your master, I'm fulfilled. As a fellow warrior, I'm rather frustrated.”

Liam vanishes, and the next moment he's arms wound tightly around Impa. In her height, he doesn't come higher than her chin. Zayn’s ears catch on soft sniffling, and there's no fighting the teary smile on his face.

Impa laughs, petting Liam's head. “Oi, that was a compliment! Why the tears?”

She knows the reason behind these tears. They all know. She'd disappeared after Vaati’s attack. Lars and the others haven't had news of her in a year. Liam hasn't seen her at all, either. No way to learn of her whereabouts, or whether she still walked among the living.

These are tears of relief, and no one can blame Liam for them.

“Your Highness,” she takes a knee, bowing her head. “Forgive me for deceiving you and your party. The current scenario demanded drastic choices.”

“Raise your head, Impa of Sheikah,” he tells her. “I understand—”

No, he doesn't. If he did, he'd have thought first about how long she'd been hiding in Liam’s shadow. Since Vaati’s attack during the festival? Was it on their first visit to the Sheikah village? Is she aware of everything he and Liam have done? And by everything he means _everything_.

Fortunately, Impa must notice that he blanks out, and reassures him that she'd been waiting for them in Lars’ shadow. “I'd never seek a diplomatic incident, spying on the prince,” she tells him, but all Zayn hears is _“I haven't seen you two ravage each other.”_

But back to the issue at hand: repairing the Twilight Mirror. Impa elaborates and reveals they need shadow magic. After all, that's what twilight means— coexistence of light and shadow. However, this fact alone raises the question of why would an artefact by the Goddesses of Light require shadow magic? Moreover, who's going to use—

He blinks. “You can use magic, ma’am?!”

He's confident Liam can't, except for that bracelet. And even then, the magic is in the jewellery; it merely responds to Liam’s body. In this aspect, it's no different from a crossbow that only he can knock and loose an arrow. That's Purah's interpretation of it, any way.

Impa struts to the cracked mirror. “Who do you think I am?”

“I'll just wait over there,” Liam says, still furiously wiping at his eyes. Zayn’s urge to kiss his tears away has officially skyrocketed. “Let you do the magical stuff and all.”

The statues of the Sages silently oversee repairing procedures. Zayn merely follows Impa’s directions pouring light magic on the required spots. Once he's done, her shadow grows into a claw that clutches and binds the mirror together. Both magic merge, and like a river, flow through the cracks, filling them up.

_“Patience is a virtue, and I've done my waiting.  
_ _Cunning Sage of Shadow, you belong to me!”_

A large, purple eye sprouts on Impa’s very shadow. Hands shoot out of it, flailing like grass blades in a gust of wind. She dodges and vanishes away from it, but wherever she goes, it's also there.

Zayn figures one cannot outspeed their own shadow.

“Zed!”

Seeing Liam crouched before him, readying an attack, he immediately enchants the Master Sword with a light spell.

Liam vanishes to Impa’s position and slashes all stretched arms that snare her. Despite this, the shadows reconnect right away.

_“Begone, insect!”_

A violet beam shoots Liam down to solid ground. Zayn teleports to his side. No sign of injury, thankfully.

_“I regret not disposing of the likes of you at my first opportunity.”_

Zayn shoots a sphere of light energy that the eye meets with another beam. Impa slowly sinks into her own shadow on the wall, bound and gagged.

“I'd say you can't get rid of us,” he retorts, helping Liam up.

_“Boisterous compared to the previous times. Very well.  
_ _Reach me, and we shall put an end to your foolish resistance and hopes.”_

Truth is, Zayn’s confidence doesn't back up half of his words. He's not in it to lose, for he knows the severity of a defeat carries. He's grown stronger, and so has Liam. The outcome is no one's knowledge, but he can't underestimate the same guy to defeat them on multiple occasions.

_“Follow the dark trail, if you dare.”_

“Impa!” Liam shouts, as she disappears into the wall.

A portion of her shadow slithers down to level ground, expanding into a large hole. On the other end they can see what resembles the shrine they visited on Purah’s request, but much more deteriorated.

“Soul Overdrive.” Liam’s eyes become golden. “Let's put an end to this.”

 _Spacial magic._ It's distinct from Farore magic Zayn yields. Instead of moving himself, what Vaati does is connecting distinct points in space to enable movement. It more closely resembles going through a door. One that can be opened almost everywhere. Zayn understands the basics behind it. One thing he knows: it's no sorcery anyone can use freely, least of all master.

What resembles ruins of a shrine turns out to be some kind of laboratory. An ample space with a high ceiling, even higher than the shrine’s. Same architecture overall, with metallic walls, except for a single feature— an altar.

_“I would welcome you, but I am yet to hear of one who welcomes rats into their home.”_

A large, shadowy hole spreads on the floor, and out comes the lilac elf of red eyes.

“I should, however, commend you for your tenacity for repeatedly becoming a hurdle to my objectives.” Vaati waves a finger, causing a large pillar to rise behind him and join the small forest already in place. “Not as if it would change the outcome in the slightest.”

Not the focus of his gaze, Zayn notices belatedly the other pillars like the one just summoned, are see-through, unlike the rest of the room. They have something in each of them. Something large enough—

“By Hylia—” Zayn covers his mouth with the back of his hand.

Every missing person since the attack at Picori Festival, including his dad, trapped in some kind of crystal. Eyes squeeze shut, winces, pained expressions. They're very different people, yet all carry the same fundamental agony to their faces, as if drowning. Impa is the only one that can still move inside her crystal, repeatedly punching it.

“Although the ritual is incomplete, this is more than enough to dispatch the likes of you.” Vaati takes his eyes off Impa, turning to them again. He balls a fist up, a purple flame lighting up on his palm. “Behold! This is the power of a god!”

The small flame spreads over Vaati’s robes, engulfing him. Shadows gather at his feet. A skull of shadow and flames for eyes swallows him down in one go.

A wall of water rises with a thump Zayn’s staff, sheltering him and Liam. He’s glad he hasn’t used an ice shield this time: too much steam means too much water evaporated from what hasn’t been a direct attack.

“His Mana has grown absurdly,” he tells Liam. “Stay focused.”

Liam forces a smile, twirling his sword. “I figured. His blood thirst got worse.”

From the flames, a doll-like figure emerges. The top half, humanoid, closely resembles a skeleton. Made of pure gold, like the crown upon its head. From the neck below, a long staff comprises its entire body.

Shadow becomes robes, and flames—now golden—become sleeves. The staff at this new being’s centre expands horizontally, revealing a single, enormous, red eye.

_“Rejoice! For a new god has been born!”_

Vaati’s large eye spews fireballs over the room that Zayn meets with water shots. Small explosions release more steam into the air, and Liam cuts through it at lighting speed. His blade strikes at even higher speed, though it finds no flesh: Vaati’s eye shuts as soon as he closes in.

Liam vanishes back to Zayn’s position.

“I’m getting déjà vu,” he says, and granted, the same has occurred to Zayn. “Can’t cut it down.”

That’s like a small Gohma, reacting to anything foreign into its space. The hard skeleton reminisces of a tough—if not _tougher_ —Dodongo hide. There’s already a great chance this thing embodies every bothersome aspect of their past enemies, and Zayn despises this very idea.

Vaati raises both arms, two golden orbs coming out of its sleeves. Each gold nugget turns inside out, revealing themselves as smaller, floating eyes. The moment each begins to gather light, Liam and Zayn split, evading beams that carve the floor and walls.

“I suppose it’s not letting you get _close_ , any way,” Zayn replies. He holds his staff to the side, summoning his sword in its place. “Half for each?”

Liam smiles upon seeing him unsheathe his rapier. “Sounds good to me.”

_Anticipate your next two or three moves. That shortens your response time._

Midna’s words, Zayn now feels them in his every muscle. Crouching, dodging, sprinting. He leaps between searing light beams, and he slashes through fireballs. This drive for victory pushes him to reconnect with those sensations from their time with Midna, telling him and his body what to do.

“Bright Arts,” his sword cloaks itself in light, “Luminous Bolt.”

A downward swing to the left rams a beam of light through both minor eyes attacking him. Another swing, but to the right, drives a second beam in, forming X’s that captures them in place, as if stitched to air.

On Liam’s side, he shield bashes the floating eyes out of his way, finishing with his spinning blade technique. With all four satellite eyes gone, the pole that's Vaati’s belly opens to reveal his massive eye.

Zayn readily stitches the eye open. “ _Leeyum!_ ”

“Nightshade Arts—” Liam holds his Master Sword out “—Safflina Tempest.”

Faithful to its name, several slashes strike Vaati's in quick succession, forming arches of light. Gorgeous like flower petals, yet ferocious like the impetuous winds of a storm. Vaati’s odd form tumbles, crying basalt dark tears.

“Did it work?” Liam asks, already back to Zayn’s side.

_“I am... a god... Mere ants cannot reach me!”_

“Pretty sure we have,” Zayn replies.

They watch the eerie creature stumble, despite its lack of legs. Vaati shatters the beams of light that pry his eye open, closing it again. Another set of satellite eyes come out of his sleeves, and some of the shadows to cloak him also come to shroud his eyes in a dark fog.

Zayn presses his palm to Liam’s blade. “ _Dast-e-toofan_.” Seeing Liam’s eyebrow cock, he explains, “High Mana density means defensive magic.”

Though those eyes by themselves already carry enough magic to mistake them for a high grade mage. Nothing about the lasers they shoot that remotes to weakness.

A second round with Vaati confirms Zayn’s theory and more. Vaati’s eyes circle him in different orbits and use the fog to disguise their actual size— attacking a specific point only causes them to move to another one within the fog.

It's then that Zayn releases the spell embedded into their blades to burst upon contact.

Delayed spell with remote activation. There has to be a better— and shorter—name for it, but for now that's what it is. Inspired by Liam’s Ekrixi rune, he'd decided to compact Mana in a way akin to his potions. Works better than expected, if he says so himself.

Uncovered, every orb is significantly slower. They fall not to two beams of light, but eight instead. Zayn even reconsiders naming his technique after a dandelion or a firework, because that's what they resemble now.

Liam crashes into Vaati through a bull-sized fireball. A reckless shield bash that Vaati down, ripe for the finishing strike.

He leaps into the air, then descends with great force, staking the Master Sword through the eye. Vaati still tries to reach him, but both sleeves fall limp. The flames dim out, whereas the shadow begins to dissipate.

Liam somersaults backwards, and Zayn joins him. There's nothing left for them to do besides watch the golden carcass shrivel and deteriorate into dust.

_“This cannot be... I reject this outcome..._

_My God... Why forsake me...?”_

“Do you think that was too easy, too?” Liam’s eyes return to scarlet, as he sheathes his sword.

“It's not like you've gone for it at your 300%, or anything,” Zayn replies.

He only half jokes. That onslaught of techniques would eventually take care of Vaati even without Zayn’s help. Maybe the reason Liam was born without magic was to limit his potential a little, because his capacity of growth never ceases to amaze Zayn.

This isn't what pikes Zayn’s curiosity, though.

“He mentioned a ‘God',” he points out, crouching beside Vaati’s Ashes. The hand held over the ashes gives him the impression of standing close to snow. “ _Wha’_ ‘God’?”

The answer comes before late. Vaati's ashes become finer than dust, and a pool of them rolling across the floor like fog. Bubbles form on the surface, like boiling water. A large mass emerges roughly the same size as the melting dust. This purple orb, as dark as onyx, casts a shadow over them, like the moon to the Earth on an eclipse.

A single, slightly smaller, red dot scurries over its surface, in multiple directions, before focusing on them. It then narrows like a cat’s pupil.

“Can't complain now, can ya?”

Bushes of crystal bloom randomly across the floor. Sharp, sturdy. The same substance that encloses Zayn’s dad and the others. Vaati’s eye incarnation is a pure mass of concentrated Mana and something far, far more sinister.

_“Unforgivable. Unforgivable. Unforgivable.”_

“That's _not_ what I meant,” Liam replies, arming himself again. His eyes, again, become golden. “ _So_ not that.”

Eye Vaati unleashes a whip-like lightning over them. Liam slips through its wild lashing, whilst Zayn contains it with a shield raised from the ground. Earth may not be his first choice, but he can't risk melting through his ice.

“—Overwinter Tempest!”

The technique hits with force and precision, except that it doesn't, really. Liam vanishes back to Zayn’s side. In front of Vaati, a cluster of eight more dark spheres form a shield. Half turn cyan, half turn vermilion, but all of them become eyes.

 _What's up with the eye obsession?_ Vaati’s extra eyes orbit it faster and faster.

_Do not mistake that incomplete form for the extension of my power!_

“Don't wanna scare you, but— you don't even have a body right now.”

Zayn bites the inside of his cheek. By now, he's used to Liam’s dry wit surfacing at the most inopportune times. This one, though, takes the cake for how dire the situation is. And he's _not_ wrong, a fact that only makes his response funnier.

Or maybe Zayn has finally started to lose it after so many battles. He can never tell.

“I'll need some time.” He holds his staff horizontal to his body. “I promise I'll give you an opening.”

Liam smirks.

“Not tha’ kind!”

“I reckon it'd be fine even without the promise bit.” Liam also holds his sword horizontally, palm flat against the fuller of the blade. The Master Sword shines bright, and with a twirl of it, he plants it in the ground. “Nightshade Arts: Wolfsbane.”

The Master Sword’s shine casts three shadows of Liam behind him. From each shade surfaces a man in his very likeness, also holding swords. Once Liam rises up, so do his copies, gaining colours under the sacred light.

“Let's go, lads,” he tells them, and the next instant the four vanish towards Vaati.

It's just his second time using it, yet Liam seems to control his shadows easily. They're faithful copies. More than copies, they are extensions of him. As in not a single Liam split in four, but each possessing the same strength as he does. If not for their perpetual scowls—and colour coded tunics—it'd be impossible to tell them apart.

 _Focus, Zayn!_ It's his time to fulfil his part in his plan.

“Fair maiden cloaked in snow,

Frost is your crown and blizzard your mantle,

Weep, lament, shatter.”

One thing to notice is how much easier it is to gather Mana from his surroundings. Zayn uses his own, but this time also relies on Mana in the air, the walls, and the ground beneath his feet. Takes less time and effort to channel it up, too.

“Nayru Spell: Ice Valkyrie!”

A robust, ethereal woman of Ice and snow appears before Zayn, and from her long hair a blizzard blows over the room. The Liams disengage Vaati in time to avoid a direct hit, all four vanishing back to Zayn’s side.

Snow accumulates on Vaati’s eyes, quickly becoming a thick coating. The satellites surrounding it grow sluggish, heavier with the added weight and lower temperature. Zayn more than ever realises something in his magic has _shifted_.

On Liam’s sign, violet and red Liams parry the heavy eyes that Eye Vaati hurls their way. Blue Liam springs from behind them and blinds it with a flurry of slashes. The path for Liam, then, lies clean of obstacles.

_“Don't come! Stay away from me!”_

Without its satellites, and having its main eye blinded, Vaati randomly shoots lightning orbs around the laboratory. Three waves per barrage, before it needs to gather more Mana. They drift and float like balloons left to their own luck, waiting for the next breeze to carry them away.

_Those are small bombs. They blow up on contact._

Purple Liam nods at Zayn, even though he's sure he's sent the message to Liam. In fact, he's not even sure he can link to Liam’s shadows.

Liam vanishes through short distances, dodging the suspended magic. A leisure stroll that contradicts the current situation.

_“Stand back, you filthy worm!”_

A single laser shoots in Zayn’s direction. Liam’s shadows block it with a three shield formation before it reaches Zayn. That's when Zayn remembers a little Liam fact he's never liked: the lack of magic presence.

Too many times Liam sneaked on him—unintentionally, he might add—because he can't be sensed nor heard. What Vaati experiences now is the utmost terror of a surprise attack. Now, the Great Deku Tree’s words carry renewed weight— _“You are the warlock’s natural enemy, young Sheikah.”_

“This is for Lisa,” Liam says, and readily dodges a clutter of mines that homes in on him. “Overwinter Harvest.”

Four flashes transverse Vaati in the eight directions of the compass. As all Liams sheathe their swords, the gigantic eye splits open like a peeled clementine. Tat-black goo gushes out till there’s no more left.

“You can rest now, Lisa,” he hears Liam whisper.

The other three shrink back into shadows on the ground, converging with the original one.

“Somebody tell me why this prophecy even needed me.” Zayn teleports and catches Liam before a nasty landing face first to the stone floor. “Overdid it again, didn't ya?”

Liam winces, then grins wide.

“You get them out of that... thingy, 'cos Goddess know I can't.”

Which... should be simple, were Zayn privy to what kind of magic Vaati used. Impa would know more about it, but again, she's also trapped in those bloody crystals. If they're a product of shadow magic, then...

“Let me grab your sword.”

Liam cocks an eyebrow, completely unfazed. Zayn immediately slaps his arm, even more so when he hears laughter.

“All right! All right!” Liam pleads, still laughing. He unsheathes the Master Sword, reverses his grip on it, and offers the handle to Zayn. “Be gentle. It’s sensitive without its cover on” he warns, wiggling his bushy eyebrows.

Before he accidentally lets a laugh out, Zayn accepts the sword. Tries to, at least. As soon as Liam lets go of it, the blade drags Zayn down to his knees.

“Leeyum, wha’— How do you even lift this?!” He finally drops before it rips his arms off. Instead of the expected heavy thud and a hole on the ground, he's met with the clatter of a common sword. “What the—”

They try a second time, and this confirms that for Liam it doesn't weigh any more than it does to the ground. A seal of some sort, Zayn supposes. And again he wonders why this whole thing even involved him when Liam is the key element here. (Though he reckons he’d have joined Liam regardless, so not much of a point in dwelling on this.)

Liam flicks his sword in the air with a stomp of his heel, snatching it as effortless as he always has. “Here, let me help you.”

At four hands, it's much easier to do everything. Part of Zayn laments that he can't properly enjoy Liam’s heat on his back, but now it's not the time for cuddling. He'd like to say that's something for later, though reality is a little more unsavoury than that. A lot more.

“Ready?” He feels Liam nod beside his head. “Here it goes.”

Zayn closes his eyes. He focuses on flowing his Mana into the Master Sword. Since it has its own magic, he must do it slowly, carefully. Like the trickle that form stalactites in a cave, rather than the wild river flowing into the sea.

He seeks balance, harmony between both kinds of magic. Do it too slow, and he'll just be diluting his Mana into the vastness of the sacred blade’s powers. Do it too fast, and he risks a counter attack straight into his core.

“It's shining a bit more! Keep on doing that, babe!” Liam whispers in his ear, and half of him wishes the shiver down his spine wouldn't happen.

_“Your growth is admirable, and I thank you for returning my freedom.”_

An eerie, deep voice bounces off the laboratory’s walls. What had been eye Vaati’s remains have now crumbled into dark fog, rolling across the floor. A rug of dark dust concealing the floor and their feet. _Is tha’ Twilight—?_

_“Come join me!”_

The dark fog spirals into a dome, swallowing both of them. When it comes undone, they're no longer in the Sheikah facility. In fact, Zayn doesn't even imagine where they are, for this place lacks walls and a roof.

_“Princess Zelda’s descendant, Hero of Time’s successor,_

_Welcome to my private paradise.”_

A man clad in dark armour appears from within an orb of purple energy. He's taller than Liam, and also larger in build. His hair, coloured like wild flames, remains in place by the intricate ruby diadem that comes to bloom like a halo behind his head. Something about him reminds Zayn of Urbosa and her warriors, save for the foul, putrid Mana he exudes.

“You have done well,” the stranger says. Folding an arm to his chest, he bows slightly, and in doing so, brings attention to a large crack on his breastplate. “Despite that fool’s constant meddling, you have done well. My gratitude for getting rid of that nuisance in my instead.”

Two arcs of light home in on the stranger, but he swats them with a waggle of his forefinger. Zayn immediately turns to Liam, who has golden back to his eyes.

“Step back, Zed.” He grabs his shield. “He’s even more dangerous than the other guy.”

That comes without saying. Although the Mana he senses isn’t greater than his own, Zayn has no doubt this guy masks his real strength. The stink Zayn gets from him is fouler than Vaati’s. This can only mean his magic had more time to mature, or, in this case, _rotten_.

The man guffaws, head thrown back. “If you realise your insignificance, that speeds up our negotiation.”

Zayn summons his staff. “Negotiation?”

As the red-haired man opens his right palm, a golden triangle, composed of three smaller ones, shines in a bubble of light surrounded in chains of pure light. That same design that appears in most of Zayn’s belongings, that is part of the Royal Crest— the Triforce.

“Free me, and I shall grant your biggest wish in life.” He smirks at Zayn. “ _Anything_ your heart desires.”

Zayn’s eyes are on Liam on the very next moment.

 _Anything?_ ‘Anything’ is literally any of the things in this world, whether just possibilities or already facts. ‘Anything’ is as vast as it gets, and offers freedom Zayn has never encountered in his life. ‘Anything’ sparkles under the sunlight, and lures one like a moth to a flame.

Zayn swallows a sudden lump in his throat.

“I...”

“Hand it back,” Liam warns. “You’re wasting your time talking rubbish, _Ganondorf_.”

The name rings a bell inside Zayn’s mind, and his thoughts clear up again. He remembers it. Liam’s right. The male Gerudo seeking godhood by stealing the power left by the Goddesses of Creation to their people. The self entitled Demon King of the legends they’ve learnt in their journey.

Ganondorf closes his large hand, vanishing with the Triforce. He then proceeds to yank at the pole of light sprouting from his chest. In reality, a long sword made entirely of light. Its shape and length is the same as the ones the Sages hold at Arbiter’s Ground. The ones used to sentence Hyrule’s highest criminals.

“Unreasonable like your ancestral, young Sheikah.” He plants his sword on the ground, folding his arms in a rather imposing instance. “If you do not fear death, come.”

Liam brings his shield arm to his chest. “Soul Overdrive!”

“ _Leeyum_ , wait—”

There’s no waiting. The clatter of blades fills the air, as a golden-eyed Liam charges at the Gerudo King, spamming his strongest techniques. Their movements, at greater speed than Zayn’s eyes can follow, are only somewhat visible when anticipating where Ganondorf’s Mana will appear next. And as soon as Zayn catches a glimpse of them, they’re already vanishing to another position.

Zayn falls to his knees clutching his chest. He hesitated. He _still_ hesitates. Brief as it might have been, he considered placing his happiness above everyone’s else. His dad’s, his mum’s, his people... even Liam’s own happiness. Because he doesn’t see how abandoning everyone would ever make Liam happy. Or if Liam would ever want to be happy beside him after that.

Such a great king he strives to be.

A collision interrupts his thoughts. He helps a bloodied Liam out of the crater, whilst casting a healing spell. From the other side, Ganondorf, arms still folded, watch them.

“He’s tough.” Liam winces, forcing himself straight up. “He’s not even using that thing, is he?”

The Triforce? Unlikely. At least not its full power, that’s for sure. The legend says Ganondorf was sealed because not even Princess Zelda and the other sages could defeat him. It’s always been a particular curiosity for Zayn, because Ganondorf literally holds the power of the Goddesses. What could prevent him from breaking free for so many centuries?

The answer lies in his proposition a moment ago. If he can’t have access to the whole extent of the Triforce’s power, then he shouldn’t be able to leave the Light Realm. And if he requires Royal Hylian blood for it, then it makes sense why he’d seek Zayn’s aid.

“I’ll need your help,” he tells Liam. Unsurprisingly, it earns him a smile. “Just know it’s risky for you, to say the least.”

Liam scoffs. “Has that stopped me before?”

And yeah, Zayn doesn’t think it has, but the realisation does scare him a bit. Liam has got a bit better, but you can never know when he’ll indulge into his reckless behaviour next.

“Just... trust me, okay?”

“Have you talked some sense into your knight?” Ganondorf asks, drawing his sword again. “I grow weary of this useless dawdling.”

Zayn thumps his staff on the ground, and a layered pyramid of ice traps Liam. He can see Liam slamming against it, but all sound is confined to it. He’s made sure to acoustically isolate it with special ice, lest Liam’s pleas shake his resolve.

“I’ll... accept your conditions, King Ganondorf,” he says. Just speaking the words is enough to make his voice quiver. He doesn’t need to look back to know Liam screams at him. “As long as you let me live a normal life beside him... I’ll do it.”

Ganondorf plants his sword down again, guffawing like thunder during a storm.

“Very well!” he rejoices. “I shall honour your wise decision.”

Wise... _yeah_. Zayn doesn’t know about that. There’s hardly any wisdom to prompting Liam’s rejection and hatred. He’s no fool. Foolish would be to believe Liam can forgive him after being sold out like this. But if he can put an end to this madness—in some way—like this, then he’ll thread through hell and strike a deal with the devil himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shawl: Traditional clothing used around the shoulders.
> 
> Sherwani: Traditional long coat-like garment used in formal occasions.
> 
> Red Bubbles: Cursed floating skulls burning in red flames.
> 
> Torch Slugs: Ever burning slugs as large as an average dog.
> 
> Lizalfos: Ever burning slugs as large as an average dog.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


	8. Dawn

**VIII**

“Zayn! Zayn!”

The icy wall stands unaffected to Liam’s punches. Maybe if he had some room to throw a proper punch... At his current strength, it should be simple to break free. Zayn must know this, too. Else, he wouldn't lock Liam inside this many cases.

He needs out, and he needs it _now_. Every second he wastes here is a second Zayn spends in that guy’s presence. The one that has every nerve in his body yelling _‘danger’_ at him.

Vaati gave him trouble; no doubt. But at least Vaati seemed reachable, mortal. What's outside, has withstood the trials of millennia. No food and no drink. In conditions that any other would have perished, Ganondorf has thrived and endured, never losing the smell of blood in his hands.

Liam had fought enough battles to tell when they're toying with him, or when they don't even bother doing that.

_Zed, babe, come back! He's dangerous!_

Nothing. Only static fills their link. All that he can think of is outside interference—he has no way of gauging Ganondorf’s or even Zayn’s power—which could also be this weird dimension they're trapped in. But if it's neither, then it only leaves one other possible culprit.

The thought sends Liam’s stomach plummeting to his feet.

Right now, he can't tell what Zayn is thinking. Whatever it may be, his instinct tells him to prevent it.

 _A weak point._ He must find the flimsiest portion of these pyramids. He knows nothing of magic, understands it even less. But if this is ice, and a physical manifestation, he should be able to locate it. Closing his eyes, Liam begins his sensory reconnaissance of his siege.

Through his nose, he searches for any source of air. Zayn wouldn't smother him to death, so the air must come from somewhere. With hands and feet, he searches crevices and any thinner areas. He occasionally knocks his knuckles or boots to get a sound response.

It demands concentration and all of his space awareness, but he finally finds it. An almost imperceptible spot from where a tiny stream of air comes in, on the vertex to his right.

 _Beast inside me, grant me power to save him._ He clutches his forearm to his chest.

“Soul Howl!”

#

The low creaking of ice urges Zayn to hurry. If Liam breaks free before he dispels the Triforce, he might as well say goodbye to their happy future.

This he cannot allow.

“Still not finished, Zelda’s descendant?” Ganondorf asks. “I advise you to not put the limits of my patience to test. I have done my waiting for a few millennia.”

“Then, I don't see how a few minutes can make any difference,” he retorts in a neutral tone.

A little petulant, a little defiant, but he doesn’t lie. What's an hour to thousands of years? A grain of sand to a desert. A single drop to an entire ocean. This is a spell he couldn't crack for several lifetimes, yet expects Zayn to do it in the blink of an eye.

More creaking.

Time runs out. He can't ask Ganondorf for more, and least of all Liam. He stares at the encased Triforce in his hands. Even through the seal, he senses an immense power. It doesn't compare to anything he's sensed before. Not even The Great Fairy Queen, Vaati, or his dad— it's truly the power of the Goddesses, like the universe’s Mana in its primordial state.

If this were to be yielded by a corrupted heart, he can only see destruction as a result.

Ganondorf thumps his sword against the floor, causing a tremor. “Do it. _Now_.”

With eyes closed, Zayn focuses on synchronising his Mana with the barrier. He supposes an aggressive approach will result as unfruitful as Ganondorf’s. If he can mingle with the flow, he could _undo_ it instead of _destroy_ it. The easiest way to open a lock is using a key.

As he pours more of his Mana in, the faint image of a long-haired lady becomes sharper in his mind. She speaks in words he cannot understand till she's clear in every detail in her intricate regalia and raven hair.

_To my descendants, heed my plea:_

_keep the Goddesses’ light from the clutches of the wicked._

_She predicted this?_ Now that he thinks about it, the legends about her might carry more than just simple folklore. To be able to cast an everlasting spell... More than ever he understands why everyone has high expectations for him.

More creaking. He must act fast. This might go against Princess Zelda’s will, but he has to do it.

“ _Unlock_.”

The chains burst, link by link, one bind at time. By the fourth and last chain, an explosion sets off behind Zayn. Shards of ice fly in every direction, and a large shadow pounces on Ganondorf, sinking its fangs on the forearm he uses to shield himself.

“Wretched Sheikah! You dare defy me?”

Zayn keeps pouring his Mana into the seal, a little faster now, since Liam has already broken free. The last chain gives out, yet he keeps feeding it his magic. In fact, he releases all of it at once.

If he can’t destroy it, then he’ll make it malfunction. But of course, the abrupt oscillation in his magic doesn’t go unnoticed.

Ganondorf focuses a large amount of Mana in his right fist, and slams it to the ground. A bomb of raw Mana detonating at his feet. The impact hurls Zayn against a pillar, and not even the air pocket he conjures behind himself can cushion the blow completely.

“ _Shabnam-e-rooh!_ ” Zayn clutches his side—undoubtedly a few broken ribs—trying to locate Wolf Liam. “ _Leeyum!_ ”

He struggles to get up. On top of broken ribs, his left leg can’t support him without sharp pain in five different points. All this can wait. What cannot wait, _won’t_ wait, is the rage in Ganondorf’s eyes, as a limp wolf dangles from his hand.

“Cunning prince, trying to outwit the master of deceit.” Ganondorf turns to him, squeezing a meek howl out of Wolf Liam’s throat. When Zayn attempts to move, Ganondorf’s sword pins him to the pillar. “Do you not understand how many have come before you?”

It burns to breathe. Zayn stares at the shiny blade lodged in his chest. The irony that the sword used to judge crimes against Hyrule has been used on him isn't missed. Perhaps it's even appropriate, if he considers the times he'd dreamt of a life unburdened by titles, expectations and outdated traditions.

Did he consider Ganondorf's offer, if only for a fleeting moment? He can't answer that. Doesn't know how to answer that, really. It doesn't matter now. He's failed to protect Liam, his people, and his promise to all to put their faith on him.

All he ever wanted was a happy life. Not any of this blood that now stains his hands. Maybe things would have turned out differently if he'd embraced his identity from the start. Who knows? Zayn doesn't, and neither does his fading consciousness.

_Don't give up._

Zayn focuses on the room. He hears nothing besides heavy sabatons striding his way. The only other sounds he hears is of soft dragging across the floor, which he attributes to Ganondorf towing Liam’s Wolf form.

_We didn't come this far to lose. I know this._

_Leeyum?_

_Say it. Tell me to fight, and I'll do it. Just say the word._

That's the thing: Zayn doesn't want that. He's never wanted that, more specifically. He never wished for battles, or for Liam to get hurt time and time again. Every prayer for them to meet again hasn't been to stay trapped in a master-servant relationship. He'd never wanted any of _this_.

_I don't want you to get hurt any more._

_I can get hurt many times, as long as you're beside me._

Oddly, Queen Cotera’s laughter comes to haunt his mind.

 _“I believe in change, my sweet Hylian Prince. You two **are** change.  
_ _The bond that unites you, as well. You just don't realise that yet.”_

Zayn bites down on his lip. _If I had a chance, I'd like to ensure everyone's happiness... Including my own._

Warmth flows inside Zayn’s chest, other than the blood flowing freely. He opens his eyes to harsh light that pours from the Triforce ascending high. In a final flash, it splits in the three smaller triangles, soaring across the laboratory.

One goes into Ganondorf. The second piece goes into Zayn himself. The third and final piece goes into Wolf Liam’s limp body.

In his head, an otherworldly voice, that sounds as three, speaks, to him.

 _Power without wisdom becomes destruction.  
_ _Wisdom without courage becomes regret.  
_ _Courage without power becomes foolishness.  
_ _Such are the truths about this world.  
_ _However, wisdom and courage, together, will always prevail._

Zayn blinks. “Who…?”

 _Go forth, bearer of the sacred mark.  
_ _Claim victory that placates your heart!_

The gentle warmth increases into searing heat across the back of Zayn’s hand. His skin now bears the design of the Triforce with only the bottom left triangle filled in light.

Ganondorf growls at the skies. “You wretched goddesses —! I won’t tolerate your meddling!”

Zayn teleports himself and Wolf Liam to the other end of the plaza. Hands to his chest and Wolf Liam’s neck, he casts a strong healing spell wordlessly, much to his own surprise.

Wolfie immediately leaps to all fours, licking his face thoroughly.

_Let's end this, Zed._

“Not sure I can still ask tha’, but... I need your help, _Leeyum_.”

_My sword has always been yours._

There's a moment before heat gets to Zayn’s cheeks and Wolf Liam dodges a slap aimed at its head.

“One after another... you insist on foiling my plans,” Ganondorf says, holding a hand up. The back of his hand also bears the mark of the Triforce, though his is the top triangle filled out. “I have planned on painless death for helping me claim my rightful power.” His sword flies into his grip, only for him to plant it in the ground. “Now, I only desire to torment you till your last breath.”

Ganondorf falls to his hands and knees. The muscles on his back triple in size, bursting through his armour. His already large body grows far larger, and his hair much longer and wilder. Tusks replace canines, and his fingers shrink into hooves. A snout replaces his nose, and soon a monstrous boar, large as Hyrule castle itself, has replaced him.

_“Embrace true despair in your final moments!”_

The beast dashes into the realm’s border, disappearing into a strange mandala. More of these appear, and in a flash cover the outskirts of this mysterious dimension.

_Hop on, babe._

Zayn obliges, straddling Wolf Liam. Spatial magic always complicates things a little. He also suspects that these portals pulsating between black and purple are a mere distraction. Ganondorf’s Mana has vanished, despite being at its highest. The bigger and complex the spell, the more it requires. To become something colossal, create nine portals, and maintain several spells active at once— it can't be anything other than the Triforce.

The prospect of Ganondorf yielding all three pieces sends a shiver down Zayn’s spine.

_It's coming!_

The window between Wolf Liam’s warning and the beast's tackle is almost non-existent. Ganon gallops through the area in a straight line, disappearing into the opposite portal for the next attack.

Zayn’s first thought is that it's simply fast. Forsaking hands for hooves, it specialises into running like a horse. Fast and at great speed in a short amount of time. But after the first ten attempts at trampling them, he notices how the portal pulsates with instant explosions of Mana before the attack— those are basically magic canons working with colossal ammunition.

_Any ideas? I can dodge but I don't have time for anything else._

“If you're okay with a potentially deadly plan with minimal chance of success, yeah,” he replies, just as Wolf Liam dodges again. “Though I reckon that's just an ordinary day for you.”

In this instant, an orb of light zooms out of Liam’s belongings among the shattered ice.

“Demon beast Ganon,” a female voice says. “Having cast personhood aside, Ganondorf becomes a beast bent on destruction with maximum power. Little of the original conscience remains, and arguing with it becomes impossible.”

Zayn blinks to adjust his eyes to the brightness. “Navi—”

Not Navi. In appearance, at least. Voice and speech pattern remain the same, even if this floating blue statue reminds nothing of the little fairy.

“I understand your confusion,” she says, and true to a statue, her face remains blank. “I am Fi, server of the Goddess Hylia. I am here to impart you, Sage of Light, with the ultimate spell.”

 _Wait._ Navi was supposed to be with the Great Deku Tree after Liam recovered the Master Sword. That’s what she had told them, any way. Not to mention this Fi literally lacks half of the annoying enthusiasm Navi has.

Wolf Liam dodges another attack, and Zayn fists more of its fur to steady himself.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm accepting any help here,” he tells her.

Fi somersaults, folding herself into a golden bow. Which is great because Zayn trusts his archery skills. Not so great is that he sees no quiver _anywhere_.

“Oi! How can I loose an arrow if I don't have any?”

“The Bow of Light can only be used by the Sage of Light,” she says, and honestly that’s not much. “Trust me, Your Highness.”

Zayn readies his bow, closing his eyes. Arrows. He needs arrows. He needs his own arrows to take Ganon down.

“Face the gate he's attacking from,” he tells Liam, eyes still closed. He immediately gets a soft _‘okay_ ’ in his mind, as he draws the bow. “Counterattack starts _now_.”

Liam obliges, and the next time Ganon emerges from a portal, it receives an arrow of light in the middle of its forehead, overturns to the side.

“That's your chance! Dish out some damage!” Fi ushers.

Now Zayn can believe she’s Navi.

Wolf Liam melts into its own shadow, then lunges at the crack on Ganon’s underside, the same location Ganondorf had the Sword of Six Sages.

After some vicious mauling, Ganon stands up. Wolf Liam slithers back to Zayn in shadow form, emerging between Zayn’s legs.

_Let's keep up this pace!_

Zayn nods, already closing his eyes to Ganon's tail and mane disappearing into the nearest portal. He readies his bow again, gathering more light he reshapes as an arrow.

Ganon reappears, this time ready with a giant orb of Mana on its muzzle. It charges at them like usual, but shoots energy into another portal, that then redirects it onto them. Thankfully, Zayn manages to teleport them high up, or of harm. Ganon may lack Ganondorf’s intellect, but its instincts haven’t dulled. But If the beast has a plan, so does Zayn.

Ganon charges at them again, and this time it finds three wolves. It shoots the one on the right, charges at the one across from it, and kicks at the last one.

The fourth wolf, the original Liam, leaps out Ganon’s shadow, attacking it directly to its wound. Before it can trample Wolf Liam, Zayn looses another arrow straight into the gem of its diadem.

The pack of wolves tackle Ganon's underside with spiralling bites. Four times more vicious than Liam’s previous attack. This time, Ganon fails to get up, as its hooves can't keep traction of the ground.

Zayn replaces his bow with his staff. He holds it aloft, close to his hand branded with the Triforce.

“Golden radiance gathered in my hand, become a beacon through the everlasting night. Pour, shine, cleanse,” he chants. The Triforce mark grows brighter and brighter, till his hand cloaks in light. “Golden Silk spun in wheels of times, tetter the blazes of destruction.”

Ganon charges dark energy before its snout, too.

“Maximum radiance,” Zayn aims his hand at the beast’s forehead. “Luminous Kingdom!”

Shadows and Light collide and swirl. This isn’t just Zayn’s power or the Triforce’s. This is the hope put in him, and a burning desire for better days.

Light eventually subjugates darkness, swallowing Ganon’s figure till it’s gone. Replacing it they find a naked Ganondorf on his knees, eyes white and deprived of pupils.

“Is it over?” Liam asks, back to his original form and clothed again. “Over _over_?”

That’s what Zayn also would like to know. No Mana emanates from Ganondorf. The air is fresher as well, assuming what they've been breathing since arrival in this plane _is_ air.

“We should take his head.”

Zayn nearly snaps his neck turning to Liam.

“ _‘That's how we ensure success of a mission,’_ Impa always says,” he supplies.

They don't talk much about Liam’s life outside Hyrule, but the little Zayn learns often concerns him deeply.

“I... don't know about tha’,” Zayn replies. From Liam’s reaction, he's sure his right eye squints, a quirk that’s also a telltale sign for his opinion on things. “I mean, I don't feel anything from him.”

Liam draws the master sword. “I wasn't saying you should do it, you know.”

_“Power... More and more power…”_

Liam vanishes to Ganondorf’s side, blade ready to claim his head. He misses the chance, as an explosion of dark fog hurls them away.

A tremor spreads from Ganondorf’s position, and the ground emulates the ups and downs of the ocean.

_“Millennia of waiting spoilt by some milk reeking brats..._

_It will not be... I will not allow it…”_

Although there are no walls in this realm, cracks appear around and above them. Light pours from all three of the Triforce marks. The world collapses, faster and faster. It's as if the very fabric of reality has become glass before Ganondorf’s fury— brittle and tangible.

Zayn’s and Liam’s Triforce marks shield them in bubbles of light, as a new world unfolds behind the one they've been in. Or perhaps not so new.

At first glance, these ruins are unidentifiable. Remains of some long-lost civilisation, as parts of a castle and smaller constructions lie around. The dark sky means nighttime, though the moon they find on the sky has the colour of Sheikah blood.

“A crimson moon.” Liam juts his chin to the sky. “The air is thick with death, too.”

Somehow, Zayn doubts he refers to the surrounding boneyard. Something foul permeates this space. Beyond, and far more sinister than what meets the eye.

“Is this...” Zayn bites his bottom lip, dreading his own unspoken words. “Doesn't it look like... home?”

Liam’s brow furrows, then he also searches around him, frantically looking in every direction. He vanishes for a moment, and upon returning, carries part of a stone statue with him: a headless cuckoo perched on the numbers 11 and 12.

“The cucclock.” He holds the piece up for Zayn, swallowing hard. “We're back in the village.”

_“I shall prevail... I shall prevail…”_

Purple wisps swirl into a tornado. The voice comes from it, spoken by a ghostly skull of fiery eyes within it.

 _“Behold the result of your fruitless struggle...  
_ _Behold the consequences of defying a god…”_

Once more, Ganon shows itself before them. Even larger, and now its skin glows with a strange blight that Zayn takes for Mana diluted in blood. The fiery mane from before gains a whole new meaning, as it now has become actual flames connected to the ones burning out of its eyes.

“Calamity Ganon. Consumed by his malice and hatred, Ganondorf has sunk to a primal state. No words can reach him, now.”

Well, Zayn, for one, wouldn't be up to talk to something that has hooves larger than his bed. He doesn't tell Navi—Fi, or whoever—this, however. More than Ganon’s resurrection, he worries about the beam of energy that carves a canyon of molten stone in the ground.

“It'll be _bad_ if that thing hits us,” Liam says.

“To put it mildly,” he agrees.

If they've done it once, they can do it again. On this assumption, they retake their strategy. Zayn mounts Wolf Liam, and together they work on sniping Ganon and attacking its wound. Simple and effective.

If only they could land an arrow to their target.

Wolf Liam dashes fast, and almost as fast Zayn looses his light arrows. Even so, Ganon’s hooves come too close to crushing them, and if they're too far, it fires another of its Mana canons. It's risky to get close, and even riskier from afar.

A rear attack isn't any more effective, either: the monstrous boar’s tail is now a viper of flaming mane, and it attempts to devour them whole, despite Wolf Liam’s massive size.

 _If we could bind it for a moment—!_ Zayn racks his brain for some other ideas. He could finish it with a spell. If he draws power from the Triforce of Wisdom and adds to his own, there's a chance.

_I know this silence. Out with your plan, babe._

_Wha’?_

_You're plotting a way to do this, but you think it's too risky._

Goddess. Zayn hates getting read like this. This is what he despises, because it implies the possibility that he's too transparent, even when he has no desire to be. There's too much vulnerability and not enough control for his taste. He truly loathes it.

_Why you say tha’, Mr. Seer?_

_Not a seer. I just know you._

Does Liam, though? Because at this point, Zayn can't even tell if he knows himself.

_One minute. Just one minute and a strong spell at point-blank._

The catch being he _estimates_ a minute will let him draw all the Mana he can from the Triforce. And that his body won't be ripped in pieces, though these singularities he keeps to himself.

_We'll do it. Focus on the magic stuff._

_‘We'?! Leeyum!_

But Wolf Liam has already sunk into its own shadow, and slithers in Ganon’s direction, splitting into three more.

What a tasteless joke to think he'd been helping Liam out. Watching the pack of shadows enrage and escape Ganon’s rampage, it can’t be further from the truth. They’ve grown stronger. But if all Liam and his shadows can manage now is hit-and-run tactics, there’s much more growth this fight requires and not enough time to achieve it.

A sour aftertaste lingers between Zayn’s teeth.

He's done feeling sorry for himself, though. Whatever happens, this ends here. Much better is to go down sure he’s given it his all. For his family, friends, and his people, he shall wield it again.

“Goddesses of Creation, bountiful and merciful, shine over us.” He lifts his right hand, watching the brand on it glow golden. “Heed my call and descend upon us once more.”

It burns. The golden light scorches Zayn’s skin like the midday sun at Gerudo Desert. His right sleeve is no more, devoured by heat all the way to his shoulder. A single instant that he lets his concentration waver, it’s all over.

Another beam of dark energy divides the land. What had been Hyrule Castle’s ruins, become dust in the air. At this point Zayn isn’t sure what even can he save, or if there’s anything left to save. But Wolf Liams still fights, and so should he. If he can’t save anything else, he must at least save them.

_The spell is ready._

_Great. We’ll hold it down for you._

The wolves become elves, each by one of Ganon’s legs.

“Nightshade Arts: Thistle!”

Four swords of light nail Ganon’s hooves down. Liam’s Triforce shines, its light becoming chains that retrain the beast’s legs. Ganon still rampages, earning for freedom, but each Liam keeps his sword planted on the ground.

_Do it! Now!_

Zayn hesitates for a moment. He can’t cast it with Liam so close to Ganon. He can barely withstand this absurd Mana. For Liam, who doesn’t even have any, he’ll be rendered into ashes.

_Wha’ you mean? If this hit you—_

_Fight to defeat them, if you want to win, remember?_

One of the Liams smiles in Zayn’s direction. Undoubtedly, the original one.

_I’ll just run before that. C’mon! You know I’m super fast._

Zayn’s bites his lip down till he can taste copper. Ganon has set its own hooves on fire, since it can’t reach the Liams. Whether it plans on burning them alive or just free itself, Liam won’t take it for too long. Not with all the wounds and wounds from battle.

_Zed... please._

_You better do your vanish stuff, or I’ll paste you till you face and arse get swapped!_

Zayn aims his light-clad hand at Ganon’s head. It tries to stop him with a rapid shot, that he dodges by teleporting right in front of its forehead.

“Begone, malice incarnated.” He places his hand to Ganon’s diadem. “Luminous... Reign!”

The released energy engulfs all six of them, as well as the entire Hyrule Kingdom. Or what remains of it, any way. In this moment, Zayn has no regrets or gratitude in his heart. Nothing, really.

He couldn’t save anyone in the end. Still, he’s fought his best and learnt a thing or two about himself. He’s tasted of Liam’s love, and he’s met interesting people. That his effort ensures peace to the ones left behind, that’s enough for him.

He laughs to himself. “This is how it ends, innit?”

_It is not, for this is not the end of your journey._

The three voices, that are one, speak again in his mind. All he sees is harsh light.

_This is the start of something new._

All of the light converges into Zayn’s left hand, and he has to avert his gaze, lest it blinds him. When able to open his eyes again, he’s back on barren ground, surrounded by debris. In his hand, a golden triangle glows softly.

 _The power of creation resides in your hands.  
_ _Now, make a wish your heart desires._

“These caused so much suffering and deaths... I don't think I can,” he replies. Something heavy lands on his shoulder, and to his surprise he finds a battered Liam smiling at him. “Wha’ if I wish for the wrong thing? Or if I—”

A rough thumb silences him. The boyish smile that often cheers him up, now only elicits concern with this bloodied face.

“Trust your heart more,” Liam says. The same hand he's used to silence Zayn, now cups Zayn’s cheek. “You'll be fine.”

Zayn grabs Liam’s hand in his right one, and lifts the third piece of Triforce on his left hand. The next step, into this vast unknown, frightens him. Not for what might be, but for what it might _not_. Right now, he realises that tackling one day at time, might be his best choice.

He doesn't have seer powers. He can’t predict what will pass. Yet, he's here. Have endured many battles and persevered. Perhaps more battles than he'd prepared for. Maybe life is about that.

And so, Zayn wishes. Not from his thoughts, or heart. He wishes from his soul. Past what he secretly craves and whatever might linger in his mind.

The three triangles unite as one. Light that rivals the sun itself soaks them till endless white is all the eye can see. Nothing to see, nothing to hear, or smell.

Only when the brightness no longer hurts his eyes through closed lids, Zayn risks a peek. Maybe he'll find that he now lives in a hut in the Lost Woods. Liam is probably cooking in his underpants, just an apron on. Oh, and that they now have a wolf cub for a pet, too.

But then, there's no love shack. There is nothing, in fact. Total emptiness that squeezes the air out of Zayn’s lungs— what if he's unknowingly wished for the destruction of their world?

_“You've fought well, My Prince.”_

The voice Zayn initially mistakes for Liam’s belongs to a familiar corpse in armour.

 _“Thanks to you, the art of my blade can live on.  
_ _Your Highness has also fulfilled her life purpose. My deepest gratitude.”_

The half answered question rolls around on Zayn's tongue. This single red flame for an eye socket, he recognises it. He's not so ungrateful as to forget something of such impact in his life. Figuratively and literally, because that's a heavy sword arm for someone who's mostly bones.

“Thank you... master?” Zayn bites his lip. “Uh, who exactly—”

 _“The shackles that bind me have come undone,”_ Corpse Knight says, as small orbs of light flow into his body. His ashy flesh gains colour, and regrows over his bare bones. _“I am finally free.”_

 _Leeyum?_ No, that's not it. Although there's uncanny resemblance, this knight lacks the beauty marks and misses an arm. He’s Liam again, but he _can't be_ Liam.

A second figure appears, and this one Zayn recognises. The no longer Corpse Knight bows down on a knee, much like Liam does before his dad.

_“Splendid work, Princess Zelda.”_

_“Thanks to your efforts, and to those carrying out our will, Link.”_

Princess Zelda bows to Zayn.

_“My eternal gratitude for succeeding where I failed.”_

“I wouldn't exactly call it a ‘ success’,” Zayn admits, because too many times things had become gloomy. “Thanks for helping us, too.”

Just like they've appeared, they fade into light particles, with one main difference: their conjoined hands. May their souls be free from this moment on.

Maybe _now_ it's the time Zayn wakes in the woods he shares with Liam.

The only forest in sight, however, are the tall columns of the abandoned Sheikah laboratory. At least Liam is here, bruised and battered, but alive, nonetheless.

There's no second thoughts prior to teleport dropping himself on Liam. A slightly miscalculated action, as both tumble to the floor in a tight embrace.

This smell. This warmth. Zayn is home. There's no doubt that he is finally home.

“We can't,” Liam whispers. His forefinger wedged between them is the sole barrier between his lips. “We can't, babe.”

How cruel it is to not taste him again after all this? Zayn doesn't like it, though that's what they've decided before coming here. Before, he'd feared not seeing each other again. Now, it's like they've been from the beginning: too close for actual comfort.

He settles for caressing Liam’s cheek. He hopes that outlining thick eyebrows and wiping at his eyes quenches this unsated hunger on his lips.

“It's so hard, though,” he admits, sniffling.

Liam's rough thumbs wipes at his eyes. “Sorry. That's ‘cos you're on top of me.”

“Cheeky sod.”

They laugh through (mostly) unshed tears. Their moment doesn't last for too long, either.

Liam points to the centre of the room. “They're melting!”

Technically, that's sublimation rather than fusion. Zayn won't get into technicalities today, as they teleport and vanish to catch their family and friends.

These tears have no right to force themselves out. There's no point in holding them back, either, so a soft _“Baba”_ gets drowned in them against King Yaser’s shoulder.

It's over. Truly over.

#

“Would the knight, please, step forward.”

Like all present, Zayn follows Liam’s every movement. For the first time, he thinks, the looks directed at Liam aren't of despise. Far from admiration, they sit somewhere between scepticism and surprise.

If his abridged report of the events hasn’t been well-met, he can’t even imagine the reactions to what he’s _omitted_. No one remembers their deaths, so there’s no point in mentioning it. Hardly anything would come out of it, either. People have sought the Goddesses’ Light before for its fame. It’s best that the omnipotent power fades into forgotten legends.

Perhaps this is also what Zayn has wished for to avoid more bloodshed over that power.

“For your bravery and exceptional actions, and helping restore Hyrule from certain doom,” King Yaser taps both of Liam’s shoulders with his sceptre, “I bestow upon you a new title, Baron Liam of Hyrule.”

Zayn breaks out into applause as quick as he halts, caned in the shin by Prime Minister Kinza. Queen Tashifa is a little more restrained in her reproach, but this has been her general attitude towards anything Liam-related since free from stone. Still, a glance says a lot.

Mubariz also steps forwards to receive the compliments for overseeing Liam’s training. Here Zayn fights a giggle, because everyone hears Impa scoff from her seat. It's a room full of elves, and she doesn’t bother disguising it.

“To our hero, I concede one wish,” King Yaser opens an arm in an arc, flapping his mantle. “Ask, and I shall grant it.”

Everyone has an opinion, it seems. Some say Liam should choose money, or that he'll ask for his own Kingdom. Others say he'll ask for beautiful wives. The more outrageous ones imply he'll demand to become Hyrule’s next king. All these are wrong, as Liam’s wish isn't even for himself.

“I'd like Your Highness to choose his own fate,” he says, raising his head. “I've witnessed his feats, and this victory is as much as his. I wouldn't be here now, if not for him.”

King Yaser nods at Zayn, and he proceeds to join them.

“You have heard your knight. What is it you want?”

Zayn glances at his mum and Prime Minister Kinza. Their eyes could bore holes all over Liam’s skull.

He turns to known guests next. Purah and Kaneli smile at him. _Purah_ does. With Kaneli is more of an intuition thing, because… _beaks_.

Deku Princess is even more expressionless, though her frantic nodding says it all. Saria and the (tiny) Great Deku Tree try (in vain) to contain her. Impa’s too busy scolding Lars and Lisa for some unknown reason. Sidon seems ready to leap at Liam’s throat any time.

None worry Zayn as much as Mipha’s pensive look. Unlike the others, she stares right at him, unreadable. And if he didn't know any better, he'd assume she knows what he's about to say.

“When it's my time to take upon the throne—” he takes a deep breath “—I want him to be beside me... as my king.”

_What?!_

Liam’s thoughts come loud and clear through their link, undoubtedly on accident.

Voices overlap, as everyone present has their own opinion. Mubariz has to resort to amplification magic to shout a stern “silence” over the crowd’s buzz.

“If you allow me, Your majesty,” Prime Minister Kinza begins, “it's clear that this... _knight_ has deceived our innocent prince, and _clearly_ plots a coup against Hyrule!”

Zayn may or may not consider opening a hole on the floor under the old man.

“Well, Prime Minister, it is so that I do _not_ allow you,” King Yaser replies. “These are the ones who have saved this kingdom— a reward is due.”

The smile is already back on Zayn’s face, when his dad’s tone changes.

“However, the future of our beloved Kingdom can't be decided as lightly.” He slides his _shawl_ off, throwing it over the Prime Minister’s head. “Liam of Hyrule, prove before the witnesses in this room that you can protect our beautiful Kingdom.”

Mipha raises her hand. “Best Your Majesty in battle, and I release Your Highness from compromise.”

An uproar takes the room.

_Oh crap._

#

Unlike Deku Princess implies, there's no thrill in watching the man you love and your dad fight. Even worse it is to know you’re the reason.

But both have chosen to ignore his pleas, and now here they are, crowding the arena like it's Picori Festival again. If it were, his dad would be weakened, and Zayn wouldn’t have to worry about Liam’s safety.

_“—none other than our generous ruler, Your Majesty himself, King Yaser!”_

“Your dad has gone barmy!” he hears his mum whisper to him. “What’s he thinking?!”

At the centre of the arena, King Yaser holds a hand up, greeting the crowd. Zayn rarely sees him without his crown, and this is one of these opportunities.

_“And in comes the challenger, dear audience. Promising knight aspiring to general, and also Your Highness’ appointed knight, Liam!”_

It's on Zayn to start the fight, since his dad is also in the arena. As soon as he lowers his hand, he keeps his eyes peeled to what kind of fight these two have to offer. If be knows his dad well, it's going to be—

_“There it is, folks! Your Majesty unrivalled silent spells!”_

Liam vanishes from spot to spot, dodging the earthy hands that sprout from the ground. King Yaser doesn't move an inch, nor does unfold his arms. He just has to glance at the ground to control it, to bend it to his will.

Liam now faces Zayn’s enemy from birth: his dad's brilliance. More than an absurd Mana, what qualifies King Yaser as Termina’s strongest mage is his wordless control.

“Is it me, or are Your Majesty going all out?” Deku Princess hangs on the balcony. Her question almost mirrors Zayn’s, with the difference that he knows how competitive his dad is. (Mostly because he gets after his old man.) “Didn't he, like, raise your guy, too?”

Zayn sighs. “Why do you think I was against this?”

Pillars of earth rise and bash against each other, whilst Liam vanishes to dodge them. His attempts in attacking from a blind spot only result in a wall sprouting between him and King Yaser, and then more earthy hands reach for him.

Zayn knows his dad must have realised that a speed contest won't get them anywhere. The next attack confirms it: the entire arena becomes spires shooting heavenwards. Whilst Liam is airborne, a massive lightning strikes him down.

The crowd goes silent, as Liam’s limp body plummets to certain impaling.

“Nightshade arts: Bloom.”

In a flash the spires become stumps chopped down to their bases. Liam crouch lands on his feet, holding his wooden sword to his side.

“Better not hold back, or you're going to regret it,” King Yaser warns, arms still folded. “Nor expect me to do that, either.”

Liam grins. “My apologies, Your Majesty.”

Zayn groans internally. Sometimes he forgets that Liam _also_ can get quite competitive.

“Soul Overdrive.” Liam opens his now golden eyes. “Here I come.”

The shards of stone shatter against the barrier around the arena. Although the difference in speed between is overwhelming, the area wide spell cast reacts to the minimal shifts in the air. Liam may not have any Mana, but his movements, as little as they do, move air, and the Mana in it. Only a refined control of one's own Mana should allow it—

A lump refuses to go down Zayn’s throat. Suddenly it isn't as clear if Liam has ever had an actual chance.

“That instance— Could it be?”

It is. There's no mistaking it. The moment King Yaser places a fist sideways on his open palm, it's clear he'll cast his ultimate spell. One that Zayn has never even dreamed of attempting: Primordial Chalice.

The highest level of the spells in the royal family. A magic so strong that it leaves the caster unconscious for at least a week, weakened with acute Mana anemia— _Manemia_. A double-edged spell that uses all the Creation Goddesses’ magic combined.

_Leeyum! Don't let tha’ hit you. If you get hit, you're **dead**!_

Air gathers into a sphere below King Yaser’s fist.

_Won't it hit the crowd if I dodge it?_

A great point, to be honest.

Because right now Zayn can't tell what goes through his dad's head. The wards around the arena are by no means weak, either; they're just not intended to withstand that kind of magic. Not even the wards around the kingdom are.

_Sorry, babe. He's testing me. And I want to pass. I—_

_Leeyum? Leeyum!_

Their link goes mute, completely cut off. Zayn can see Liam from where he sits, but he can't hear anything in his mind.

The humidity in the air gathers into a swirling orb of water to the top left of King Yaser’s fist. Only fire to go now.

Liam’s shadow splits in three other Liams. All four close their eyes, clutching their forearm before themselves. That's the second time that Zayn’s stomach flips because he also recognises this instance, but usually these techniques come separated or in the reverse order they have just now.

“Pack Overdrive,” the four Liams shout in unison.

“What is this? The young knight has become four!”

Four pairs of golden eyes and four wooden swords pointed at King Yaser. The Liams line up sideways, raising their dull blades over their heads.

A spark lights a fireball top right of King Yaser’s wrist. He's done with preparations.

“Nightshade Arts,” the four Liams recite, “Overwinter Raid.”

Four purple energy waves collide with a tornado of flames, earth, water, ice, wind, and lighting. The shock wave knocks most spectators out of their seats. Thanks to Ifra’s help Zayn stabilises the area, though it doesn't keep them from feeling the tremor.

The battle between powers rage on King Yaser presses forwards, but so do the four Liams. Neither side seems any closer to victory, and all Zayn can do is watch this senseless brawl.

Till an explosion engulfs his dad and Liam.

The coliseum grows silent, almost as if empty. No cheering, yelling or insults any more. All eyes are fixed in the dark cloud of dust that shrouds the arena.

“An incredible fight! Who's gonna emerge victorious?!”

Smoke dissipates slowly. Two pairs of legs can be seen standing. One belongs to King Yaser, and the other one to Liam, of course. The original one. His copies lie around lifeless, in positions that can't be achieved without multiple fractures.

After a moment, Liam drops to one knee, supporting himself with his wooden sword. He's battered. Blood and burns all over his now exposed arms and a gash across his chest.

King Yaser, on the other hand, stands just fine, smiling. His _sherwani_ has taken the brunt of the attack, but other than half his chest bared, he's fine. (Not in the same way Princess Deku implies, though.)

“I told you to not hold back,” he says. Then, collapses face first to the ground. “Idiotic son.”

_“It seems that... the challenger wins?”_

“ _Baba!_ ” Zayn teleports to his dad, glad to find out he's only drained from Mana. “Why would you do tha’?”

“I've always wanted you to be free... This is as much freedom as I can give you.” King Yaser cups Zayn’s cheek. “This is my apology for all I've put you two through,” he adds, his hand dropping lifeless the next instant.

Zayn hugs his unconscious dad tight. He's never blamed his parents for their royal blood. Responsibilities are expected, and consequences of the circumstances of his birth. If he's learnt anything from Liam, it’s that what one makes of their life is what makes a difference.

“Thanks, _Baba_ ,” he says, holding his dad's hand to his forehead.

As Aifa and the healers approach, Zayn leaves his dad's care to them. Liam worries him the most, because even an indirect hit from that spell is peak recklessness. Even for Liam’s standards.

“I’m daft for thinking you've changed,” he chides, without as much as asking how Liam feels. Instead, he casts a healing spell right away. “Wha’ did I tell you? You— ”

“Capture him! Capture this traitor before he murders our king!”

Surrounded. Zayn finds them under several spears, led by none other than the abhorrent Prime Minister.

“Don't be swayed, Your Highness!” He swats his arm to the size. “Please, move. I'll deal with this traitor!”

All spears disappear with the close of Zayn’s fist. He's too tired to put up with this buffoon’s antics. Might not be the only one, given that Mubariz orders his knights to take the Minister instead.

“Liam has won in a clean and fair duel,” Mubariz announces, pushing past his men to join Zayn. “If anyone here believes they can take His Majesty’s supreme spell and live, come forth— I’ll be your opponent.”

Absolute silence. Whether for the unneeded amplification spell, that makes Mubariz’ voice even more thunderous, or because his words carry sense. Zayn can’t say he’s predicted this outcome.

King Yaser’s words suddenly make a lot more sense.

 _Wha’?_ Zayn blinks. Mubariz’ words got lost on him.

“Elaf will scout you back, My Prince,” he repeats. Elaf nods in confirmation. “I believe Ifra’s assistance won’t be necessary; I’ll leave my man under your care, then, Your Highness.”

Liam precariously brings a balled fist to his chest. “Thank you, sir!”

With a curt nod, Mubariz and his soldiers take a screeching Prime Minister Kinza away. Whilst Zayn can’t say he’s as close to him as he is to Ifra, the old general can be a reasonable soul.

“Your Highness, what about them?” Elaf points to the unmoving Liams scattered around. “Should we ask Aifa for support?”

Zayn looks at Liam for help.

“Put them near my shadow, please,” Liam fills in for him.

“Wha’ he just said,” he confirms. “Thank you.”

Watching Aifa and Ifra float his dad away, hooked to Mana stones, Zayn can’t help the bittersweet smile that blooms on his face. Thanks to Mubariz, he now understands his dad’s reasons. As Elaf and comrades do as Liam instructs—no snide remarks and no complaints—he whispers soft words to himself.

“Thanks, _Baba_.”

#

Once Liam has recovered, and all happenings of the past year are properly recorded, it’s time to return the valuables acquired on their journey. They do the reverse order for the gems. First visiting the Fire Temple, and cycling back to Forest Temple.

“Whenever you are ready,” Saria chirps, making way for them. In her arms, the (tiny) Great Deku Tree bounces like the small sapling it is. “The seal has been lifted.”

Liam exhales, then smiles at Zayn. He climbs the altar slowly, unsheathing the Master Sword.

“Here I return the Sword of Evil’s Bane, hoping the next generations won’t ever have to wield it.” He twirls the blade, reversing his grip on the handle. It now dangles from his hands, lined up with the slot in the stone tablet. “Thank you for everything, Na— Fi! I mean, _Fi_.”

_“It’s okay, Liam. I have also enjoyed our short time together.”_

The Master sword slides into the pedestal, sealing with it its glow and Fi. Liam exhales sharply. It’s done. Now they can officially call their journey finished.

“Wha’ you’re thinking there?”

He gives his hand to Zayn without tearing his eyes from the tablet. There’s so much on his mind, to be honest. Ganondorf’s ambitions... The Interloper War... The Twili... Link and Zelda’s tragic story... The Yiga clan still on the loose... The Triforce choosing him... It’s hard to focus on just one thing.

“Aren’t you scared this will happen again?” he finally asks. A question doesn’t answer another, but this is where he is now. “What if... we have been lucky?”

Zayn redirects Liam’s gaze by the chin, so they now stare at each other’s eyes. His smile is soft, as abundant in sympathy as his soft hands encasing Liam’s calloused one. He even peppers kisses across Liam’s knuckles, despite Liam’s protests.

“Then we’ll just try our best again,” Zayn replies. “That’s wha’ you taught me, yeah?”

Liam parts his lips, anticipating Zayn’s next move. Whenever Zayn reels him in like this, he knows what it means. So, when soft lips lock with his, he allows himself to melt into it. Slow movements, tongue, and all.

“I love you, babe,” he says at the end of the kiss, giving two more pecks to Zayn’s lips.

“Well, it would be awkward if you didn’t.” Zayn smirks. “Since we’re getting engaged, and all.”

However humorous, Zayn’s tone carries a fundamental truth. They've overcome many moments where defeat seemed their only alternative. They've done it once and can do it again. He'd prefer it to not happen, but in case it does, they can only happen it can be done again.

Being together, right now, is also something both had once deemed impossible.

“Ah, youth!”

“Great Deku tree, you _are_ young again.”

As good as a reminder that they’re not alone. He blinks at the sapling nested in Saria’s arms. For now, they let the sacred sword and Fi— slumber again. Until forever, or until the time another swordsman must rise to claim it.

“Let's go home,” he says, and this time it has a special meaning for both.

Because going home means their home again, and now even more than before. He’s lucky. _They’re_ lucky. Few have a chance at this so soon, if ever. When he thinks about Zelda and Link, it’s clear that fate can be crueller, and every waiting even longer.

Maybe that’s what life is about, after all— making the best out of what we’re given. Existences that meet, interact, and influence one another. Independent roads that intersect along the way, sometimes, more than once.

And that’s the common denominator, really. From Zayn’s desire for freedom to Ganondorf’s ambitions of godhood. All of them stitches in the fabric of time.

All, specs in space.

All, tiny stars under the vastness of the sun.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. Hope you have enjoyed it!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> For inquiries on prompts and AUs, reach me @[zeskiyo](https://zeskiyo.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, or @[zeskiverse](https://twitter.com/zeskiverse) on twitter.


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